Maid Service (32 page)

“Don't worry, it'll be Rhiannon,” he said and Michelle nodded on her mouthful of cock.

“I might have known it!” Rhiannon laughed as she came through the front door. “I take it everything went well then?”

“I'll tell you later,” Peter answered her. “But in one word—yes. Now why don't you join in?”

“Love to, but let me put my bags down,” Rhiannon answered. “I'll have a drink while I watch you two, then maybe I'll come and stick my bum right in your face, Mr. Finch.”

“Yes, please,” Peter answered.

He relaxed once more as Rhiannon disappeared into the kitchen, now imagining how it would feel to have her beautifully rounded little bottom in his face while Michelle worked on his cock. She'd come to take particular pleasure in having her anus licked, usually in preparation for anal sex, and she was generally the first to get her bottom into another girl's face when the chance came, often with Michelle.

“Don't make him come yet, you greedy bitch!” she called from the kitchen. “He never licks properly when he's empty.”

Michelle responded by sitting back, and Peter let go of her hair as he saw what she was going to do. She'd taken one plump breast in each hand, squeezing them to a gentle, even rhythm to make her milk come. There was now plenty of it, with tiny jets squirting from her nipples as she pressed them between fingers and thumbs, to run together into little white rivulets. Her knees were spread wide, her heavy belly resting between her thighs and her bottom pushed out as she milked herself, smiling all the while, with her eyes fixed to Peter's as he nursed his erection. A few firm jerks and he'd have been able to reach orgasm, perhaps leaning forward to do it all over Michelle's breasts and belly, leaving her to masturbate in a mixture of milk and cum, but he wanted both girls and forced himself to hold off.

Michelle's face had grown loose with pleasure as she continued to play with her milk, which was coming so fast it had begun to run down over the fat, swollen globe of her belly. She put her hands underneath, lifting the weight and catching the longest of the little trickles, then moving slowly up, spreading the pale liquid over her flesh to leave her bulge glossy and slick. Peter began to hammer on his cock, unable to hold back a moment more, and as Michelle saw she caught up her breast's again, lifting one swollen nipple to her mouth to suck at the teat, beading her lips with her own milk before she swallowed it down.

“Here I am!” Rhiannon announced as she bounced out from the kitchen, a drink in her hand and stark naked.

“Feed on Michelle!” Peter gasped. “I can't hold back, but I want to see you feed on Michelle. Go on, darling, cradle her, let her suckle, please!”

Rhiannon giggled and had quickly curled herself into Michelle's lap, held as if she was a baby. Her eyes were full of mischief as she glanced at Peter, but as she took Michelle's nipple into her mouth her expression changed instantly to bliss, her eyes closed, her lips puckered as she suckled. With Michelle's arms curled around her back and beneath her, Rhiannon's position also served to show off her pert bottom, her sweet little cheeks pushed out, with the lips of her cunt emerging from beneath as she fed.

Peter moved quickly forward as he felt himself start to spurt, aiming his cock at Michelle's chest and at Rhiannon's face. Cum splashed out, soiling Michelle's neck and one fat breast, and again, to leave a sticky streamer joining Rhiannon's nose to the teat she was feeding from. Rhiannon's head turned, her lips wet with Michelle's milk as she opened her mouth wide for Peter's cock. He pushed in with a groan, letting her suck and swallow, feeding on his cock just as she'd fed at Michelle's breast, before he finally collapsed back into the chair.

“That was so dirty!” Rhiannon said, a broad smile upon her sodden face.

But she was nowhere near finished. Rhiannon fastened again onto Michelle's nipple, feeding eagerly. Michelle tightened her grip, holding Rhiannon firmly to her breast as she suckled her, with Peter watching in fascination. Rhiannon's hands went between her legs, one to rub at her pussy and the other to tease at the slit of her ass and the tiny hole between, masturbating freely without a care for the show she was making of herself.

Michelle's milk came fast now, and as Rhiannon grew more excited she began to lose control, her mouth wide and slack with tiny rivulets of milk running from the corners to dribble down onto her breasts. Not that she cared, sucking more eagerly still as her fingers stroked at her clitoris, while another of her slippery fingers eased up into her ass. Her muscles began to contract, her back arched and she'd pulled off Michelle's teat as she started to come, milk bubbling from her lips. Michelle gave her breast a sudden, firm squeeze, sending a powerful blast of milk into Rhiannon's open mouth.

Once more Rhiannon pressed herself to Michelle's chest, now coming in a shivering, jerking climax as she sucked on the slippery, milky nipple and rubbed her face into the softness of her friend's breast to deliberately soil herself with milk and semen, her fingers still clutching at her sex and her anus now plugged and twitching around fingers buried deep. Michelle held on, cuddling Rhiannon and stroking her hair, soothing her, and praising her for how far she'd let herself go. At last, it was the younger girl who finally pulled away.

“You're a disgrace!” Peter said happily as Michelle rose ponderously, and began looking for something with which to clean herself off.

Rhiannon simply giggled, and at that moment the doorbell rang.

“That must be Stephen,” Peter said. “He's very early.”

Rhiannon gave a squeak of alarm and started for the stairs, only to be brought up short as Peter grabbed hold of her wrist. He was grinning as he wagged a finger in her face.

“Oh no you don't, young lady. Go and answer the door to our guest.”

“Not like this!” Rhiannon protested.

“Why not?” he asked innocently.

“I'm covered in milk and cum!”

“Okay,” Peter offered, “but I'm going to the door, right now.”

Rhiannon fled up stairs, her face scarlet with blushes. Peter was laughing as he pulled open the door, making sure that Rhiannon managed to get clear, only to find that the visitor was not Stephen, but Christine, her scowling face streaked with tears, her eyes blazing hatred.

“You got me fired, you bastard!” she raged. “I'm going to see you brought down, Finch. I'm going to see you back in fucking prison if it's the last thing I do, you fucking bastard!”

“Calm down!” Peter urged, stepping hastily back from the door. “You're the one who tried to expose me. What was I supposed to do, just let you get away with it?”

“Why couldn't you work with us?” she demanded. “It would have been so simple, but oh no, you have to play your stupid little games, and …”

“Oh right,” he interrupted, his own temper flaring, “so I'd have betrayed my friends and ended up as a spy for that bloated oaf Bearslake. Never, Christine, not in a million years. I would rather be in prison, seriously.”

“With any luck you'll get your wish,” she answered, suddenly cold. “I'm going to another paper, with everything I've got, the pictures, everything, and what I know from way back, about how you arranged to have me spanked in front of your filthy friends, the others too. You do know little Katie Vale is married to a high court judge now, don't you? And Ayanna? Do you know how much she's worth? Over a billion! When she finds out …”

“I didn't do anything to Ayanna!”

“Oh yes? You had her spanked by Vicky fucking Trent and Tiffany, so you could watch, didn't you?”

“No. I …”

“Bullshit! I know you, Finch, you pervert, and that's what I'm going to tell her anyway, so …”

“She came in to Vicky's room to ask for a spanking,” Peter broke in. “But look, seriously, have some compassion, Christine! My wife's pregnant, Daniel's career will be ruined and he doesn't even know about Clementine, Ben Thompson …”

“Did you show me any compassion?” she demanded, fresh anger flaring in her eyes.

“Yes!” Peter answered. “I refused to give any names out, even when I was being threatened with a caning, or to the police. That meant your name, Christine, as well as the others', and besides, you knew what you were letting yourself in for. You volunteered to be spanked, remember, and it's not as if it was even the first time. You were Vicky's toasty girl, for Christ's sake!”

“That was private,” Christine answered. “Something very private and very special between Vicky and I, something which a clod like you could never hope to understand.”

“You snitched on Tiffany and Alice to make Vicky jealous!” Peter exclaimed. “Face it, Christine, you're no angel. And what about Ophelia? You and Bearslake had her dressed up as a fox, chased around Bearslake Estate and sodomized, not to mention being made to lick two girls out. I bet that wasn't in accord with the paper's code of conduct!”

“She was well paid,” Christine assured him, “and anyway, you subverted her!”

“And she thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing,” Peter added. “But that's not the point. You're taking the moral high ground when you have no right whatsoever to do so. Can't we talk about this? I'm sorry about the spanking, I really am. I never realized you'd take it so badly, and you're really no better than me anyway, so why …”

She screamed and flung herself at him, but Peter caught her arms and quickly twisted her around, lifting her clear of the ground with her legs kicking frantically in every direction, just as Stephen's black Mercedes appeared in the mouth of the lane. Peter kept his grip on the still struggling Christine, doing his best to evade her teeth and nails, but suffering several nasty kicks from her heels. She was still spitting curses as the astonished Stephen climbed form the car, along with Vivienne.

“What the hell is going on?” Stephen demanded. “Is that … Christine?”

“Yes,” Peter did his best to explain over the shoulder of the writhing, spluttering woman. “She's been sacked by Bearslake, so she's more determined to expose us than ever.”

“Hell!” Stephen exclaimed. “Look, Christine, calm down and let's talk about this sensibly.”

She didn't answer immediately, but her protestations diminished enough for Peter to let her go and take a step back.

“It really would be best to talk,” Stephen went on. “Sure, you could sell your story to another paper, and there'll be one hell of a scandal, a lot of careers ruined certainly. Maybe you can even ensure that Peter ends up as the scapegoat. Maybe he'll have to do a few months in jail, but is that really worth it?”

“Yes,” Christine answered.

She was still seething, her fists clenched by her sides and her eyes burning cold fury, one shoe had come off and her fine, dark hair was in disarray. Vivienne was trying not to giggle as Stephen carried on.

“Really? You're not under Bearslake's protection any more, you know. You'll get sued, extensively, and then there's the little matter of some of your previous scoops, achieved with the assistance of phone taps on a range of celebrities and politicians who are going to be extremely upset with you when they find out. No, don't bother to deny it. We have some very good contacts indeed: government, police, security services, judiciary, all sorts. So let's all go indoors and sort this out like civilized people, shall we?”

Nothing would take the scowl from her face, but she accepted the invitation and the four of them stood together in the small hallway.

“I was going to tell you that our research had borne fruit,” Stephen told Peter. “But that doesn't mean your efforts were wasted this morning. Bearslake might well have managed to wriggle out of it anyway, by blaming his subordinates, including you, of course, Christine. Loyalty is not his strongpoint.”

Christine didn't answer, angry and silent as she tried not to let her temper get the better of her once again. Rhiannon joined them, now in an evening dress and asking puzzled questions until Stephen and Peter had managed to get them all seated, save for Christine, who had opted to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, not yet prepared to make herself comfortable among her adversaries.

“What we need here,” Stephen stated, accepting a drink from Rhiannon, “is a damage limitation exercise, and on a fairly grand scale. First, Christine.”

“Indeed” Christine responded, “What are you going to do to get me on your side?” she asked, still defiant but with a flicker of concern showing in her eyes.

“Nothing melodramatic, I assure you,” he said. “In fact, Christine, I'm going to offer you a job with my company. You're an unscrupulous little bitch, and a hard headed one at that, which is just what I need. I can promise you a decent salary.”

She didn't answer, obviously taken aback, and Stephen continued.

“Peter, I hate to say this, but I think you're going to have to call it a day. Things are getting out of hand, especially with Chloe Thompson now involved as well as Clementine.”

“But … but it's my only source of income!” Peter protested.

Stephen shrugged and reached into the top pocket of his jacket, pulling out a check.

“Consider this a consultation fee for my Balkan deal, which is how it will appear in my books. Cash in your investments, maybe even sell up here, and you should be able to manage in modest comfort, I imagine?”

He had dropped the check, allowing it to flutter down onto the table. Peter looked at the row of figures, counting the zeros after the initial figure over and over again in the expectation that he was seeing double and half of them would disappear. They stayed the same, but a dozen conflicting emotions were chasing through his head at the same time, regret, relief, inferiority, gratitude and more, leaving him unable to find his voice. Stephen at least had the courtesy to seem a touch embarrassed, taking a quick swallow of brandy before he continued.