Domination Inc. (13 page)

Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed, and a voice called out, ‘Carol, darling, I'm home...'

‘It's Alan,' Carol gasped. ‘Oh, Warren, it's really going to happen, isn't it?'

Warren couldn't work out whether Carol was referring to the enactment of her fantasy, or to her impending orgasm. He didn't have time to think about it. As Carol grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and cried out in ecstasy, her salty juices flooding into Warren's mouth, the bedroom door burst open and a voice exclaimed, ‘Carol, what the hell is going on here?'

Carol, fighting to recover, said nothing. Warren turned his face, smeared with the evidence of Carol's orgasm, towards the man who stood in the doorway. Alan Wesley was exactly as Warren had pictured him: in his early forties, with receding sandy hair and thick, horn-rimmed glasses. He was staring at his wife's flushed body, naked but for stockings and suspenders, and the play of emotions was visible on his face: excitement that his cherished fantasy was about to come true, mixed with jealousy and humiliation. It looked as though the latter feelings were winning. If he had called a halt to the paid-for proceedings and thrown Warren out of the house now, it would not have been a surprise: it was one thing to dream about your wife having an orgasm courtesy of another man's lips and tongue, enjoying a pleasure which you had been quite happy to deny her throughout your marriage, but quite another to stand in your own chintzy bedroom and be confronted with the reality of the situation.

Warren pounced on the man's indecision and took control of the situation. ‘I'm about to give your wife the fucking of her life – show her what it's like to have a real man's cock inside her for once. Have you got a problem with that?'

‘I… er…' Alan Wesley stammered. There was a pronounced bulge in the crotch of his dark suit trousers, which Warren gestured to contemptuously.

‘Obviously there's no problem, otherwise that pathetic little dick of yours wouldn't be getting so hard.' He sat up on the bed, giving Wesley a good view of his own erection, standing proud from its dark bush of hair. To Warren's surprise, the man seemed as impressed by it as his wife had been. ‘Carol told me just how small it is, you know. Said she could hardly feel it when it's up her. Come on, get your trousers off; I want to see that miserable excuse for a penis so I can commiserate with her properly.'

Wesley dropped the briefcase he'd been holding, and hurried to comply with Warren's demand. Soon his trousers and underpants were round his ankles, and his cock was tenting out the front of his white nylon shirt.

‘That as well,' Warren said, pointing to the shirt. Wesley quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes and stood nervously in front of Warren. His skin was pale, his body hair sparse and fair, and he had the beginnings of a paunch. His much-derided cock stood stubbily erect, and Warren had the satisfaction of realising it was indeed a good couple of inches shorter than his own. The fantasy, like his ego, remained unpunctured.

Warren shook his head and sighed. ‘Truly, truly pathetic.' He noticed that the man's penis twitched slightly as he spoke, and realised that Wesley was revelling in the situation. What kind of man got off on being told that he was seriously lacking when it came to his wedding tackle? Warren wondered. Still, he was paying handsomely for the privilege, and the night was still in its infancy. There was a good deal more humiliation to come for Mr Wesley, if he only knew it.

‘It's no wonder Carol needs someone like me in her bed,' Warren said. ‘I can see you need a lesson in how to satisfy a woman properly, judging by the way she came off on my tongue just now. Yes, Alan–' Warren got up and went over to clap the man on his shoulder ‘–she got licked out for the first time in her life, and she loved it. Shame you've never wanted to do it to her, considering a good tonguing can make up for any deficiency in the dick department.'

As he spoke, he was steering Wesley over to the wicker chair that stood in front of the dressing table. He turned it round so it was facing the bed, no more than a foot away from the frilled edge of the counterpane, and ordered the man to bend over and hold on to its low back.

Warren tugged the belt out of Wesley's trousers and flexed it between his hands, looking at Wesley sadly. ‘Oh, Alan, if you'd given your wife the sex she wanted, when she wanted it, we wouldn't be in this position now, would we? I'm going to have to give you something to remind you not to deprive her in future.'

Before Wesley was aware of what was happening, the end of his own belt had cracked down on his buttocks. He yelled and made to rise, but Warren pushed him back into place.

‘Stay where you are, you're getting another five of those,' he said. Five times in rapid succession, the belt landed on Alan Wesley's buttocks, supple leather branding a series of red tramlines on the white flesh. When Warren had finished, Wesley's eyes looked suspiciously wet, and he was rubbing his punished cheeks vigorously, trying to soothe them. Despite the shock of his unexpected chastisement, his cock was as hard as it had been at any point since he'd walked into the bedroom.

Warren ignored Wesley's obvious discomfort, and turned to Carol. ‘Darling, I'm going to need your stockings,' he ordered. Carol unclipped her stockings from her suspender belt and rolled them down and off her legs, before handing them to Warren. He pushed Wesley down onto the chair, Wesley wincing as his sore buttocks pressed against the coarse wicker seat, then used the stockings to secure his ankles to the front legs of the chair, taking care that the nylon would not bite into the man's skin if he wriggled and tried to free himself. He picked up Alan's discarded tie next, and twisted it between his fingers. Both the Wesleys appeared to be surprised when he looked quizzically at Carol and asked, ‘So, which hand does he use to wank with? Because I take it that's what he's going to want to do while he watches.'

He waited while Carol considered the question. By ignoring Wesley and letting his wife make the decisions, Warren knew he was increasing the impotence – no, he checked himself mentally, noting the strength of Wesley's bloated erection, make that powerlessness – the man must be feeling. But even Warren was taken aback when Carol replied, ‘I don't think I want him to be able to. Tie both his hands.'

The tie was looped round a protesting Wesley's right wrist and knotted in place, fastening his arm to the chair. His left followed quickly, held in place by the belt from Wesley's trousers. Now the show could begin.

Carol Wesley settled back on the bed, cupping her breasts in her hands as if to offer them to Warren. He went to lie beside her and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips opened beneath the pressure of his, allowing him to possess her mouth with his tongue. They kissed long and noisily, Carol leaving her husband in no doubt as to how much she was enjoying Warren's ministrations.

Warren let his tongue snake in a slow, wet trail down Carol's neck and over the plane of her collarbone, before using it to circle the crinkled aureole of her left breast. He caught the nipple between his teeth and bit at it gently, then, remembering his words in the kitchen, he turned his attentions to the soft white breast itself. The sucking pressure of his mouth changed to a sudden nip, hard enough to bruise, and Carol cried out.

‘Told you I'd do it, didn't I?' he said. ‘I told you I'd mark those gorgeous tits of yours.'

Carol's only answer was to groan in pleasure and present her other breast to Warren for the same treatment.

As Warren's mouth worked on her breasts, his hand reached down between her legs. Her inner lips had peeled apart, and he slipped a finger into the entrance of her vagina, following it quickly with a second, and a third. He spread the fingers slightly, feeling the strong ribbed walls of her channel pushing against him. She bit her lip to stifle a moan. ‘Stretching you a bit, is it, darling?' he enquired. ‘You'll need to get used to it, because that's what it'll feel like when my cock's inside you.'

He worked his hand back and forth for a few moments, finger-fucking her. His thumb had settled on her clitoris and was rubbing the little button of flesh. Wesley was more than close enough to smell his wife's briny, excited aroma, and see how the shiny crimson mouth of her sex was stretched taut to accommodate Warren's fingers. She was beginning to build towards another orgasm, and Warren increased the pressure of his thumb until she bucked and gasped beneath him, her sheath gripping tightly at his fingers.

‘Was that good?' he asked, when her breathing had subsided to something close to normal. She nodded, as he stroked wisps of hair away from her forehead.

‘Are you ready for me?' he asked. She nodded again. He looked over to where Alan Wesley was sitting, bound securely to the chair. The frustration in the man's body language was evident as he writhed in his seat. His cock was jutting upwards, darkly swollen with blood; Warren could imagine how it must feel to want to relieve the tension in that throbbing column of flesh, and to be unable to do so. Just one touch would be more than enough to bring the man shuddering to a climax, but that would come later, when the speed of Wesley's ejaculation could be used to ridicule him further, as the man had expressly asked.

Warren turned his attention back to Carol, motioning to her that she should get up on all fours. She did as he asked, kneeling so that she was directly alongside her husband. Warren positioned himself behind her and let his erection rest in the crease between her buttocks. For a moment its slick head pressed against her tight, puckered rosebud.

‘Well, if he never licks you out, I'm damn sure he's never taken you up the arse either, has he, Carol?' Warren murmured. ‘Would you like him to watch that? You know he can't do anything to stop me.' He coated a finger in the juice that was running freely from her vaginal opening, and used it to push against her anal hole. There was a brief resistance, then it slipped inside her. Carol groaned and squirmed against the unfamiliar intrusion, then relaxed as the finger began to work back and forth. Her husband was watching with appalled fascination.

‘Yes, I'll definitely have you there later,' Warren told her, withdrawing the finger, ‘but I just can't wait any longer before I sample that lovely cunt of yours.'

With that, he guided his cock inside her, feeling the warm velvet channel clasp him possessively. He grasped her hips tightly, pulling her back onto his erection. In this position, not only would Alan have a compelling side-on view of the action, as Warren's cock powered in and out of Carol's pussy, but he would also know that the penetration was deeper, enabling his wife to fully appreciate the fact that she was being screwed by a man with a larger tool than his own.

Warren's movements were slow and leisurely at first, setting up a gentle rhythm which Carol matched, pushing back eagerly onto his shaft. Gradually, though, he upped the tempo until it was almost frenetic, his balls slapping against Carol's buttocks. Carol's head was down, her long wispy hair falling into her eyes, and her breasts hung like two cones. Wesley seemed mesmerised by the scene before him, unable to tear his gaze from the point at which his wife's body and Warren's were conjoined.

At last, Warren felt the familiar roiling in his balls which indicated he was on the verge of coming. He gave a final fierce thrust and spent his seed deep inside Carol Wesley's body. Her fleshy sheath rippled in the spasms of her own orgasm, squeezing him and milking the last drops of his viscous emission.

Warren pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, enjoying the smug afterglow of sex with another man's wife. Carol turned and looked at her husband; her skin was flushed and gleaming with sweat, and her eyes shone with a vitality which had been completely absent when Warren had first met her.

‘There's champagne in the fridge,' she said, when her breathing had slowed to normal. ‘Warren brought it. I'll fetch it.' She slipped off the bed and padded to the door, not bothering to find anything to cover her nakedness. ‘And Alan, you look pathetic sitting there like that.' She gestured to the items of clothing that bound him to the chair, and the erection which still thrust upwards. ‘Warren, sort him out, can't you?'

Warren shrugged and went to untie Wesley as Carol made her way downstairs. He bent and loosened the stockings around Wesley's ankles, then rose and was about to free his wrists when he noticed the other man staring raptly at his groin. Warren glanced down, realising that his cock was more than half-erect – due to the thrill he got from exercising control over Alan and his wife, he supposed. The shaft was glistening with a mixture of his own spunk and Carol's juices.

‘That's it,' he said to Wesley. ‘Take a good look. Admire it, why don't you? After all, it's given your wife a better time than you seem to manage.'

Wesley licked his lips, and nodded. ‘She's never said anything, but I do sometimes feel that I can't really satisfy Carol with what I've got.'

Warren said nothing. If Wesley had as little knowledge of what constituted good sex as he suspected, then the man could have had a cock the size of a baguette and still left his wife unsatisfied.

‘I always wondered what it would be like to have a big cock like that,' Wesley continued, gazing wistfully at Warren's erection.

Warren would never know what made him say what he did. Perhaps it was the intoxication of completing another successful job for the agency, or perhaps it was the image of Laurel Angell sitting at her desk, sucking meaningfully on her little finger. Whatever, the words that came out of his mouth surprised even him. ‘Why don't you find out?' he asked.