The Voyeur (15 page)

For the first time, Anya became aware of the tears that were running down her own face, but she stoically held in every sound she longed to make as Mark walked onto the pitch. His face shone with pride at seeing his two girls still standing despite the extreme attention to one of them, and the extreme lack of attention endured by the other. He just hoped they could maintain their good showing over the closing stages of Fantasy 13.

Electricity pumped with unfulfilled lust, positively rippled between Anya and Clara as, breathing deeply, they failed to meet the eyes of the onlooking team. Each feared that even the recognition of the other’s longing might set off the climaxes they had been forbidden to have.

As if understanding this fear, and intent on exploiting it to the club’s advantage, Dr Sparrow stepped forward saying, ‘It’s time for you both to watch now. The no sound rule is
still
in place.’ Then the manager deftly stripped his secretary, who automatically positioned herself on all fours.

Anya and Clara stared in envy as Dr Sparrow teased Ms Hill’s slim frame with his silk handkerchief. He worked over every inch of her body, making her whine with happy contentment. Mark’s employees could almost feel the sensations themselves; the view a new form of torture as they imagined how the caress of the cloth might feel if it was applied to their own skin.

Pausing in his work, the doctor beckoned to the men supporting Anya and Clara to approach him. Sparrow grinned as the cricketers dropped the exhausted women uncaringly to the ground, before presenting themselves to his side for duty.

Swiftly, one of the so far unserviced cricketers placed his length in Ms Hill’s mouth, while the other crawled beneath her, tonguing her in time to his teammate’s thrusts. Dr Sparrow relished the spectacle for a moment before jamming his own stiff dick into her hungry snatch. Ms Hill’s shrieks were stifled by the penis being pressed so firmly down her throat that Anya thought she might choke at any minute.

Having been made to wait for so long, the men reached their goal quickly, and Ms Hill’s own oversexed frame quivered as she climaxed only seconds after them, a wide smile across her gloating face.

As they continued to stare mutely at the explicit tableau, every fibre within Anya and Clara had become hooked on the anticipation of the next touch they would receive themselves. It seemed they would have to endure the never-ending wait a bit longer, however, for James had turned to Craig, who tenderly wrapped his teammate’s bulging penis in his huge hands, and began to work the wicketkeeper off.

Ignoring Clara entirely, Craig turned to her partner. ‘Did you enjoy the show, Anya?’ His eyes narrowed as he let go of James’s ripe shaft, and slid off his own trousers.

Anya said nothing.

Craig smiled in acknowledgement of her obedience, adding, ‘Well done. OK, you have permission to speak. Did you enjoy it?’

‘Yes, I did.’ At last Anya could see the outline of his hard cock.

‘Even though you were more beaten than spanked? You should see how red your arse is.’

‘Yes. I did.’

‘Would you like me to service you now?’

‘Thank you; that would be very nice.’ Anya kept her voice formal. She would not beg, even if her future did depend on it. She would
not
plead with this man after he’d humiliated her twice, once at Bridge’s, and more recently in Mark’s garden shed.

‘I think you should ask nicely.’ Craig turned to the wicketkeeper. ‘Don’t you agree, James?’

‘Oh yes. It’s very important to be polite,’ James said with a smug grin.

Not risking a glimpse at Mark, Anya hesitated, not sure if, or how, she should answer Craig.

As he waited for her response, Craig took a blade of grass from the pitch and began to tease it over her flesh. The air had turned cooler and Anya’s body had begun to goosepimple all over. She shivered, aroused almost beyond endurance by the touch of the grass, by the fucking she had just witnessed, and by the gang bang and spanking she had endured – not to mention the vision of her beautiful lover, upon whose tits she was dying to fall. In her mind Anya repeated to herself over and over again “I will not give him what he wants. I will not beg”, using the words as a mind-strengthening mantra.

‘I can see how wet you are from here. Are you sure you don’t want us to touch you?’

‘As I said, that would be very nice, but it’s up to Mark, Dr Sparrow, and the requirements of Fantasy 13, isn’t it?’

Clara shuddered in sympathy with her girlfriend, proud beyond words at how Anya was conducting herself.

So that the hot housekeeper was not given the chance to rest, or for her personal need to lessen, with a nod from Craig, James picked up a cricket ball. Taking care not to touch Clara with his fingers, the wicketkeeper ran the red sphere up the inside of her leg. Clara couldn’t help but whimper as the smooth leather was held firmly against her snatch. She was so wet that she was half-afraid James would try and push it inside her.

‘Now, Anya, are you going to ask nicely? Ask us to end the lust that is radiating from you and your fellow bitch like gamma rays?’ Craig spoke the question quietly, as he unsheathed his impressive cock and turned to James’s free hand so the wicketkeeper could caress it.

The sight of the two men touching for a second time was too much for Clara. That dick was hers by right. She had put up with so much teasing and tormenting, and all she’d had within her was a thin bit of wood. There hadn’t been a single second of relief from the build-up of sensations these people continued to inflict upon her sexually charged body. She had earned that dick!

‘That’s mine! Fuck this! I’m begging, OK. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Shaft me, screw me, do anything you bloody well want, but do it now!’

With James’s hand bringing him ever closer to the edge, Craig almost shot his load there and then, as the beautiful blonde finally snapped. Only practised discipline prevented Craig from coming on the spot as Clara’s begging sent a burst of heady power and success surging through him.

‘No!’ Anya couldn’t prevent the cry that left her dry, bitten lips as she read the calculating expression on Craig’s face. Clara looked at her partner in surprise, a surprise that turned to horror as she read the danger signs in Anya’s eyes.

Craig’s tone was cold as he turned to Mark and Dr Sparrow. ‘I don’t remember giving your housemaid permission to speak. Only your PA.’

Clara felt panic grip her and, as James continued to roll the ball heavily over her sodden pussy, she saw the seriousness of her outburst.

‘Captain,’ Mark said softly, giving every impression of being in complete control of himself, the bulge in his jeans miraculously in check, ‘if you would like to engage your one brain cell for a moment, you will recall that the original agreement between myself and Dr Sparrow involved Anya, and Anya alone.
Not
Clara. Who, may I remind you once again, is more than worthy of her title of housekeeper. She respects your position of cricket captain; I would deem it a courtesy if you would address her correctly.’

‘Don’t give me that!’ Craig almost spat out his words, ‘You’ve lost, Parker! Don’t you get it? Your precious workforce, whatever their household status, has let you down. They just aren’t …’

Mark held up his hand to stem the flow of the captain’s mounting rage. ‘I suspected this would be an angle you would use to try and deprive me of what is rightfully mine, and so I sacrificed witnessing the initial stages of Fantasy 13 in order to elicit certain assurances from your boss. He, I am pleased to say, is a gentleman, and keeps his word. Clara is
not
, and never has been, part of the bet.’

Anya found she had been holding her breath, and let out an elongated sigh of pent-up air in relief. Clara meanwhile, felt swamped with confusion. What bet?

James, undaunted by this pause in the action, continued to twirl the red cricket ball over and around the housekeeper’s pussy, adding to the sharper tension that suddenly shrouded the small group of people at the side of the cricket pitch.

Craig’s thin lips opened and closed in disappointed anger. ‘Perhaps you don’t realise the extent of these women’s failings?’ His face puce with suppressed rage, Craig turned to James. ‘Fetch my mobile. I think Parker ought to see that little video I recorded.’

Mark’s stony expression stopped James from complying with the barked order before he’d taken more than two paces. ‘If you are sending your lackey to fetch the video of Anya and Clara being abused in my shed, then I have already seen it.’

‘What? How? I …’ Craig turned to Anya, his whole body colouring to match his flame-red hair. ‘You bitch, you utter …’

‘Enough.’ Mark’s voice was quiet, and yet it brooked no argument as he stemmed Craig’s latest outburst. ‘Anya is no bitch. She is a loyal member of my workforce. Nor did she betray you as you suspect. Your deeds betrayed themselves. Did you think I wouldn’t notice her damaged tits? Did you think I was naive enough to only have one camera set up in the shed that day? I took the precaution of installing a secret one – just in case you didn’t play by the rules.’

Craig stood motionless for a minute, furious that his insurance to make sure Bridge’s maintained a hold over Anya had failed. Eventually he managed to bluster, ‘But she still spoke without permission!’

Reminded of a petulant child as Craig spoke, almost expecting him to stamp his foot, Mark answered, ‘Indeed she did, captain. And for that she should be chastised.’

Clara’s eyes closed, unsure if she or Anya could take anything else, especially if it meant that her own orgasm was to be delayed even longer.

Mollified slightly, Craig snapped at James, ‘Right, bring the blonde tart here. Let’s see how many climaxes we can rip from that gorgeous body before Anya has one. Three, I think she should have three – only then can Anya come. What do you think, Dr Sparrow?’

The club manager smiled sardonically as he turned to Mark. ‘I think this competitive addition to the last stage of Fantasy 13 would be interesting. This wouldn’t deviate from your original plan – just enhance it.’ Pressing home his advantage, Sparrow continued, ‘I acknowledge that Clara wasn’t involved in the finale of Fantasy 13, but she is here, and it seems a shame not to make use of her. I assume you are honourable enough to accept?’

Mark felt his muscles stiffen. He had to applaud Craig and Sparrow’s cleverness. His girls had been so close to victory. Despite a brutal beating and the attention of numerous hands, dicks, and lips, Anya had proved herself the loyal and well-trained servant he always thought she was. Even Clara, who admittedly had broken from lack of attention, had done him proud, but now Craig had upped the stakes, and suddenly Mark had it all to lose again. Yet there was no way he could argue without losing face.

He knew it would be easy to extract one climax from Clara quickly enough, but three? And all before Anya had had one … Mark couldn’t imagine how, even with all the training she’d undergone at his hands, Anya would be able to prevent her inevitable orgasm for long enough for the bet to be won.

Chapter Sixteen

Quickly recovering his usual arrogant composure, Craig surveyed his small audience. ‘Dr Sparrow, Ms Hill, perhaps I could call upon you both to attend to Clara? James and I will service Anya as previously arranged.’

As she watched the cricket captain and wicketkeeper escort the two naked women back to the centre of the pitch, the light in Ms Hill’s eyes glowed anew. She relished this unexpected twist to Fantasy 13. The grip of disappointment had been nagging at her brain; now it seemed she might get to steal Anya’s job from under her after all.

Issuing sharp instructions, Craig soon had Anya on her hands and knees, her breasts swaying in the cooling evening breeze. Extracting one of the cricket stumps from the ground, he slowly slid the mud-free end into her pussy. Anya gasped; the smooth wood felt incredible, and she had to tussle against her instinctive urge to pump her hips in response.

Determined to make Anya come first – but not too quickly; she had to suffer first – Craig crawled beneath her, nibbling at her firm chest. Meanwhile, James knelt behind her, swirling at the PA’s arsehole with his tongue. Closing her eyes, Anya gave out a stunted, guttural grunt in an effort to deflect her own climax, as frustrated as if she were an animal being prevented from mating. How on earth, she wondered, am I going to hold on until Clara has come three times?

Mark balled his hands into fists within his pockets, his face showing none of the concern he felt. He began to wish he hadn’t been quite so kind to Anya in his construction of this final task. After the orgy and beating, he’d decided to end Fantasy 13 with one of his PA’s favourite sensations as a reward. Unfortunately, it meant she was about to be put into a physical position that he knew could make her come almost immediately. Never had Mark felt so out of control. His attention flickered from Anya, to Clara, and back again.

As Anya was being subjected to the attention of two expert tongues, Clara was laid with her back to the short, prickly, well-tended grass. She couldn’t stop shaking. The chilling air, and the realisation that, for reasons she didn’t understand, she might well have ruined whatever Mark had planned, tempered her need for an instant orgasm.

In spite of the extreme arousal Clara had been a victim of, the knowledge that she
had
to have three climaxes in quick succession was tensing her muscles, and made the challenge even harder – a fact she knew Ms Hill and her comrades appreciated all too well.

The noises emanating from Anya as she fell subject to the double attention of the two remaining team members seeped into Clara’s consciousness. Making herself turn to face her lover, Clara saw an expression of sheer bloody-minded willpower on Anya’s creased up face. It seemed to say “I have to do this, and I have to do this fast”. Resolving to be as strong as her girlfriend, Clara allowed the twitch of suppressed want that had been trapped within her for so long to take over, just as Ms Hill’s skirted but knicker-free legs straddled her head.

Instantly Clara’s nostrils were filled with the aroma of female sex, and while her ears echoed with Anya’s frantic murmurs, Clara’s tongue darted over the secretary’s nub. Seconds later, a fat cock plunged between the housekeeper’s legs. Thrusting with more speed than finesse, it sent Clara’s previously neglected limbs into judders of blissful satisfaction against the slap of Dr Sparrow’s balls and the squelch of Ms Hill’s cunt.

Climbing off Clara’s face, careful to avoid giving her a second climax on the back of the first, Ms Hill glanced at Sparrow, who pulled out of the blonde’s body. Helping his zealous assistant roll the girl onto her front, the manager told Clara to get on her hands and knees. Appearing in front of Clara’s face, Sparrow then teased her mouth with his rod, before pushing it between her dry lips. Ms Hill, meanwhile, sat on the grass, almost side by side with James while he worked on Anya, and danced her spindly fingers across Clara’s backside, smearing her spent liquid over her rump until it shone.

Clara was grateful that the cock pounding against her throat prevented her from speaking, for she longed to beg Ms Hill to move her fingers an inch or two north, so they met her clit and kicked out the second climax which was climbing in her stomach.

The echo of Clara’s first orgasm as it echoed through the stand had sent extra hits of want through Anya, and it came as some relief when Craig eased the stump from her channel. James, however, was keeping up his relentless attention to her arsehole, and the knot of tension in Anya’s stomach doubled as he sauntered a finger through her juices, before poking it at the entrance to her anus.

Anya was now positive she’d worked out what Mark had instructed them to do as part of his final fantasy; and knew how hard it was going to be to hang on for Clara to perform as required, unless she distracted herself big time.

Boy, I hope I have guessed wrong.

Tearing her fingernails into the carefully maintained pitch, Anya pushed her knees against the compacted ground, well aware that any movement she made, however minor, would increase the chances of her losing a grip on herself. Concentrating hard, Anya pictured her office desk and the piles of paperwork she had to get back to. She visualised Candice taking over her job, spending every spare second flirting with Mark – no way was she going to let that happen!

Craig, who had been running his large palms over Anya’s back as he admired James’s technique, moved his attention to the one place Anya had forlornly hoped he’d avoid until Clara had come for at least a second time. Crouching at her right side, making sure he didn’t get in James’s way, he picked up Ms Hill’s discarded knickers, and caressed the silky satin fabric over the redhead’s swollen clit.

Anya’s eyes scrunched closed as she fought to deny the climax that had lodged in her throat. Her whole being prayed to a God she didn’t believe in for her partner to come again.

Mark’s gaze continued to dart from one of his employees to the other, as if he was a spectator at a bizarre tennis match. His length rigid and his heart in his mouth, Mark’s need for voyeuristic kicks was at odds with his increasing concern that he might lose the bet after all, as Ms Hill got ready to make her next move on Clara.

Operating with extreme stealth, Ms Hill kissed the naked backside and thighs presented to her, deliberately avoiding the areas of the housekeeper’s flesh that would guarantee instant bliss but managing to maintain maximum stimulation. Blanking out every sound except for Anya’s voice, imagining exactly how she must feel; trying to steal those feelings for herself so she could ease Anya’s burden and hasten her own liberation, Clara manipulated her tongue with accelerated speed over Sparrow’s cock.

Shutting her eyes, Clara moved her imagination on a step further, trying to recall every hot touch, every sexual adventure, and every fulfilling fantasy that Mark had put her through over the last six months. As vivid images of being hit with melted wax in the private room at Discreet, and fucking against the backseat of Mark’s limo, mingled with thoughts of Anya filling her back passage with rat’s tail bullets, her longed-for second climax ripped through Clara. Her entire body strained, every muscle and nerve screaming with relief. Much to the annoyance of Ms Hill, the violence of Clara’s climax triggered Sparrow’s own, his come moistening the blonde’s dry throat.

Anger flashed in the secretary’s eyes as she regarded her superior. Why do men have no self-control? Clara only has to come once more now and then Anya can let go of the volcano rising inside her – then Parker will have won. That was something Ms Hill had no intention of allowing – she so badly wanted Anya’s role as PA for herself.

Ever since the wager between Bridge’s and Mark had been drawn up, the secretary had visualised herself and Sparrow elbowing Mark out of his company and running it themselves. Ms Hill took some consolation in the obvious exhaustion of the woman before her, whose arms and legs were wobbling with the effort of staying on all fours. She glanced across at Anya, and her hopes rose. There was no way – even if Clara had the energy to come again within the next few minutes – that Anya could last more than another 60 seconds.

Mark’s s pride in his girls grew to record levels. They were so close to the end now. Anya had survived the planned part of his gruelling Fantasy 13, yet with only the conclusion of the unexpected extension to his task remaining, Mark couldn’t help but see the irony of the situation. He had designed the entire finale around Anya – he had been tough on her rather than Clara during the recent fantasy re-runs to the point of unfairness, just to bring her up the level of endurance she’d need to withstand it –but now its success or failure lay largely with Clara. So much for my last-minute insistence that she was outside the bet!

Although well trained, Clara was not quite as experienced as Anya, plus she still had no idea what was actually at stake. Mark could see from her demeanour that she was fading fast. Spots of perspiration had gathered on her slim neck and back, as she frantically tried to force another climax from her weary body.

Conversely, Anya was doing everything she could to force herself to become numb to the skilful stroking of the underwear agitating at her clit. Her world had become a narrow haze of flashing lights beneath her eyelids. Anya had just convinced herself that she could maintain her control as long as nothing else happened, when James pushed his finger fully into her arse, forcing her eyes to spring open again.

‘No! Oh fuck, no!’ Anya knew now that her guess had been correct. She saw exactly what was about to happen at the end of Fantasy 13, and knew it would be her undoing. No amount of Mark’s grooming in self-restraint would be enough to counteract it.

Precisely in time with Anya’s moment of realisation, Craig dropped the knickers which he’d been using to sensitise her clit to epic proportions. Then, with a signal to James, the cricket captain lifted Anya to her feet.

Supporting her weak body against his, Anya’s luscious tits squashing up against him, Craig eased her legs wide and notched his sheathed length to her pussy. In that one moment all of Anya’s self-discipline was wiped out. She could have sobbed when she felt his cock bury itself inside her. It was beautiful, and despite everything, Anya smiled as her treacherously sex crazed frame rocked back and forward on him. ‘Keep still for a moment,’ Craig ordered, his voice gruff with his own lust, as he reached around her and spread her buttocks wide.

‘Oh no, really, I don’t want …’ Anya’s lie was cut off as James buried himself up to the hilt between her hungry, inflamed buttocks. She would have cried out with both pleasure and pain at the wonderfully stomach-churning intrusion, but Craig had smothered her mouth with his own. Immediately the two cricketers began to move in sequence, one going forward as the other pulled back. Anya felt as if she was being torn apart by these two fantastically hard men. Nothing in the world mattered but the rhythm of their bodies slamming against her own.

Clara, stifling the feeling of panic that rose in her gullet, knew she had to do something drastic. It was too late to worry about consequences. A possible solution came to her suddenly, as she recalled how Ms Hill had reacted when she’d turned the tables on her earlier that day. In a desperate bid not to fail, Clara launched herself at the startled older woman.

Mark, still unsure how things were going to pan out, couldn’t help but laugh as Clara pushed Ms Hill to the floor. As she pinned the secretary to the ground with the final fragments of her strength, Clara positioned her pussy over the older woman’s thigh, and proceeded to hump her own tender nub against its silky flesh.

Clara had moved so fast that Dr Sparrow didn’t have time to counteract her action before she coaxed a third climax from her body, by using his shocked secretary as a convenient sex toy.

The echoes of Clara’s third and final orgasm hadn’t finished before a climax like Anya had never known swept through every fibre of her being, causing her to slump against both James’ and Craig’s chests; only the presence of the men kept her upright. Such was the force of her coming that it caused James to spunk violently into Anya, before he withdrew quickly, rather shamefaced at his lack of control.

An icy silence descended on the cricket pitch. Without giving Anya the chance to catch her breath, Craig wordlessly shoved her toward Mark, who wrapped his PA in his arms, stroking her sweat-soaked hair.

Rising unsteadily, Clara also joined her employer, who circled his free arm around her waist, as Ms Hill stood up, brushing grass from her back, her face congealed into an expression of pure and utter hate.

No one spoke. No one dared.

It was Mark who eventually broke the tension. Sensibly adopting a practical, non-gloating tone, he said, ‘The girls are cold, shattered, and probably starving hungry. I think we should get them undercover.’

Dr Sparrow, not so much as glancing at the stony expression he knew would be on etched onto Ms Hill’s face, nodded in agreement. Picking up the ever-present camera and tripod, the manager led the way into his club.

Once inside, aware he still had everyone’s full attention, Mark continued, ‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to allow
my
girls the use of your private shower room Dr Sparrow, and maybe find them some food. Also, I am sure that the remaining cricketers would also benefit from freshening up. So why not grab a shower and head off home, chaps? You’ve done your club proud by winning back The Bridge’s Cup. Your work here tonight is done.’

Craig flashed a poisonous look toward both Mark and Sparrow. Wisely, however, he held his counsel, and with a gesture to James to follow him, he did as he was bid – after all, there would be other women. If he knew Sparrow, there would be a good deal more.

With begrudging obedience, Ms Hill pointed Anya and Clara toward the staff shower block, and then hurried back to Dr Sparrow. There was no way she could trust him to sort this mess on his own, not if they were going to get something out of the wreckage. Surely the girls had come at the same time, and thus the bet was a draw and Fantasy 13 would need to be replayed. No way could Anya have held out longer than Clara … No way!