Chapter 4: Sarah's next night goes wrong
Rory’s eyes widened, taking in the sheer leopard print, the torn stocking, the smudged mascara. “Christ, Sarah,” he breathed, his voice husky. He reached for her, but she was already sinking to her knees on the hallway runner, her fingers working the buckle of his belt with a practiced urgency.
“You should see the state of me,” she whispered, looking up at him as she pulled his trousers and boxers down. The musky scent of another man’s sweat and cum still clung to her skin. “I’m absolutely soaked.” His cock, already stiffening, bobbed before her face. She didn’t wait, taking him deep into her mouth in one smooth, wet motion.
She used her tongue and throat on him with a desperate hunger. Her memories flashed—Eugene’s disinterest, Frank’s grasping hands—fueling her now. She sucked him hard, one hand cupping his balls, the other guiding him deeper until he hit the back of her throat.
“God, yes, just like that,” Rory groaned, his hands tangling in her blonde hair. She pulled off with a lewd pop, gasping for air. “They couldn’t keep their hands off me,” she lied, her voice a hot whisper against his shaft. “They wanted to see your wife's cunt. I let one quickly, but no one could touch me. I saved this for you.” She took him again, fucking her own face on his length, saliva slicking her chin.
It was over quickly, violently. Rory’s hips stuttered and he came in thick pulses down her throat with a choked shout. She swallowed it all. Later, in their bed, she rode him with a furious energy, her nails digging into his chest, but the image in her mind was of a dark, curtained alcove, stroking the big black penis and the feel of banknotes tucked against her thigh.
A week later, the dressing room at FiFi’s buzzed. Sarah applied a final coat of blood-red lipstick, her hand steady. The reflection showed a woman transformed. Her dress was barely-there black lace, so sheer the dark circles of her pierced nipples and the triangle of tiny panties were perfectly visible. She wore just a thong, stockings and heels underneath.
The main room was beginning to fill with the early evening crowd, a low murmur of conversation and clinking glass. As Sarah emerged, adjusting the microscopic strap on her shoulder, a familiar silhouette detached from the shadows near the VIP entrance.
Fiona looked her up and down, a slow, cold appraisal. “The dress is an improvement,” she stated, her voice cutting through the background noise. She stepped closer “But remember, you’re on probation. You've pissed me off once already.”
She forced a bright, vacant smile onto her face, a mask she lowered over the cold knot of fear in her stomach. For the next two hours, she performed the role perfectly, laughing at stale jokes with a pension fund manager, letting a banker’s hand on her stockinged thigh during a private dance in a curtained booth.
The money was good, easier and faster than any executive assistant role. She collected crisp notes, tucking them away, each one a tiny anchor to this new reality. She was on her third glass of champagne, floating on a superficial buzz, when she felt a presence behind her, large and solid. A hand, familiar in its possessive weight, settled on her bare shoulder.
“Sarah?” Eugene’s voice was a low rumble in her ear. He guided her, without asking, back to his usual secluded booth. He sprawled into the corner, his athletic frame dominating the space. “Sit.”
She obeyed, perched on the edge of the plush seat, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He studied her, his gaze lingering on the sheer fabric barely containing her breasts.
They talked for a while thn he suggested a private dance.
Sarah led him back to the private alcove, the same one from the week before. The curtain fell, sealing them in the intimate, sound-muffled space and she began to dance, thr flimsy dress coming off. He gestured to her knickers and they came off too and his hand and fingers explored her. "Wet," he said simply. You lke it as much as the punters, you slut." He unfastened his trousers, his thick, dark cock already half-erect. “Suck it,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.
"Sorry Eugene, it's against the rules. I"ll stroke it like last time if that's OK."
He put his hand behind her neck and pulled her face down toward his lap. The memory of Fiona’s icy warning flashed—“Don’t fuck it up”—but Eugene’s demand overpowered it. She took him into her mouth, the salty, musky taste of him immediate and overwhelming. He was already hard, the vein-thickened shaft pushing past her lips, stretching them.
“Use your tongue, yeah, just like that,” he grunted, his hands gripping the back of her head. He didn’t thrust; he held her there, forcing her to take his full length. She gagged, tears springing to her eyes as the head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Spit dripped from her chin, coating her chest. “Open wider, you bitch.”
She tried to pull back for air, but his grip was iron. He fucked her mouth then, short, brutal strokes that stole her breath and made her jaw ache. The sounds were obscene: wet, slapping gulps and his low, gratified groans. She could feel him swelling, pulsing against her tongue. Her own arousal was a distant, shameful throb, completely separate from the rough, violating act.
“Gonna come,” he warned, his hips stuttering. He pulled out suddenly, his cock glistening with her saliva. He pointed it at her face. “On you. Open your mouth. Get ready.” With clumsy fingers, she wiped saliva from her chin and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue. He stroked himself twice, three times, and thick, hot ropes of cum striped her tongue, her cheeks, her eyelids.
She kept her mouth open, accepting the bitter, salty load until he was spent. He tucked himself away, zipped up, and looked down at her kneeling figure, covered in his cum. “Clean yourself up before you go out there,” he said casually, as if commenting on the weather. He tossed five fifties onto the carpet beside her knee.
The curtain swished shut behind him, leaving Sarah kneeling on the floor, his cum a sour film in her mouth and cooling on her skin hearing only the muffled club music and the ragged sound of her own breathing. With a trembling hand, she reached for the money.
She used wipes and a towel from the alcove’s discreet basket, wiping her face and sipping her drink to get it off her tongue. She pulled her sheer thong back on, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably, and stepped into the lace dress.
Smoothing her hair, she pushed through the curtain back into the club’s dim light. She had taken three steps toward the dressing room when a large, blocky shape moved to intercept her. Eddie stood with his arms crossed. “Sarah,” he said, his voice a low gravel. “You’re a very bad girl.”
Her stomach dropped. “What? I just—”
“Fiona wants to see you. In her office. Now.” He didn’t wait for a response, just jerked his head toward the back corridor before melting back into the shadows.
The walk felt endless. Had someone seen? Had Fiona? She reached the unmarked office door, her knuckles poised to knock. From within, Fiona’s voice, clear and cold, cut through the wood before she could make contact. “Come.”
Sarah pushed the heavy door open, the sharp, clean scent of Fiona’s office. Fiona sat behind a vast, minimalist desk, a single lamp casting a pool of cold light onto spreadsheets and a sleek laptop. As well as a few book cases there was a bright red sofa in the shape of a pair of lips facing her desk. She didn’t look up from her paperwork. The silence stretched, broken only by the precise scratch of her pen.
"Take off your dress."
Sarah’s breath hitched. "Fiona, I—"
"Ma'am," Fiona corrected, slicing through the protest. "The dress. Off. Now."
Her fingers, gone clumsy, fumbled with the tiny strap of the black lace slip. It slithered down her body, a pooling around her six-inch heels. She stood shivering in just the sheer black thong, her stockings, and the sticky, lingering evidence of Eugene's visit.
"Stand in the corner," Fiona continued, returning her attention to a ledger. "Face the wall. Place your hands on your head. Do not move. Do not speak. I will deal with you when I am ready."
The humiliation was burning. Sarah walked on numb legs to the far corner, the cream-colored wallpaper blurring before her eyes. She lifted her arms, into what she knew was a submission position, her arse exposed. She could hear every rustle of paper, every tap of Fiona’s keyboard.
Her shoulders began to burn. A muscle in her thigh trembled. She heard the office door open again, then click shut. Heavy footsteps entered, two pairs. "Thank you for coming, Gentlemen," Fiona said.
Sarah could only stare at the wall, listening as the two men—Eddie and a new, heavier presence she presumed was Marcus—waited patiently in front of Fiona.
The silence in the office was absolute, finally, the crisp sound of paper being set neatly on the desk. A pen being slotted into its holder. “Sarah,” Fiona’s voice cut the quiet, clean and sharp as a scalpel. “Turn around. Come to the center of the room.” The command held no anger, which was somehow worse.
Sarah lowered her trembling arms, the blood rushing back in painful pins and needles. She turned, keeping her eyes down and walked the few steps to the middle of the expensive shag rug. Fiona leaned back in her leather chair.
“Eddie,” Fiona said, her gaze never leaving Sarah’s mortified face. “Repeat what you reported.”
Eddie cleared his throat, the sound rough. He shifted his bulk. “I was doin’ the rounds, checkin’ the peepholes like always,” he began, his voice matter-of-fact. “Saw her in with the footballer, the big money. She was on her knees.”
Sarah’s breath hitched. Her eyes flicked up to Eddie’s face, then back to the floor.
“He had his cock out,” Eddie continued, recounting it like a police report. “And she had it in her mouth. Was suckin’ him off. Wasn’t no cheeky flash or little handjob handjob, like last time." He flashed her a grin letting her know he's seen that too. "He came on her face. She opened her mouth for him. Proper keen for it she was” He paused, letting the imagery settle.
“He… he insisted,” Sarah stammered, the words tumbling out in a weak rush. “He made me, I thought… I was trying to keep him happy.” She wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt at covering up.
“Did you take money?” Fiona interrupted. Sarah’s gaze flicked to her discarded dress, where the folded notes lay in its lace folds.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Fiona leaned forward, a cruel, knowing smile touching her lips. “For sucking his cock? You know what that makes you, don’t you, Sarah?” she said, each word a polished stone. “It makes you a whore.”
"You made me angry when you fucked my husband at your interview," Fiona said, her voice a controlled blade. "This is the second time, so now you will be punished—kneel on the sofa, face over the back." She opened a deep drawer, withdrew a heavy leather paddle studded with smooth brass dots, and placed it in Eddie's waiting palm.
Eddie turned to face Sarah, slapping the paddle against his hand so she could hear it, "She's got a good arse." He slowly circled the sofa so Sarah could hear and see the large paddle, with trepidation rising but she did not dare move.
Eddie knew what he was doing, this wasn't his first spanking session clearly. He paused behind her for what seemed eternity as the anticipation grew. The first crack of the paddle on her left cheek was firm but not too hard, after pause, the second struck her right. Eddie then worked with a firm, methodical rhythm, the studded leather stinging her bare arse which she knew would now be bright punk.
Marcus moved closer, his shadow falling over her, and Fiona’s voice cut through Sarah’s gasps. “Want a go, Marcus?” He nodded and delivered half a dozen open-palmed slaps with his big, powerful hand that echoed in the office more intimagte than the paddle’s. “Since Sarah wants to suck big black cocks so badly, perhaps you could help her to behave,” Fiona mused aloud, watching Sarah’s reddened flesh quiver.
Marcus smiled, a slow, easy gesture. “I’d be happy to help, Ma’am.”
“Perhaps, later,” Fiona purred, her heels clicking on the floor as she stood. "Pull those little knickers to one side, show me her cunt."
Fiona’s gaze dropped to where the thong was pulled aside, her sharp eyes noting the swollen, glistening lips of Sarah’s exposed pussy. “Look at that,” Fiona sneered, her voice dripping with contempt, “you’re practically dripping onto my rug, you desperate whore.”
“You need to show me you're prepared to be obedient in future.” Sarah heard Fiona get up and looked over her shoulder, tears wet in her eyes from the spanking, to see Fiona walk out from behind her desk and slowly pull her tight skirt up over her hips and round her waist, revealing white lingerie above her nude sheer stockings and the bare, smooth skin of her thighs.
Fiona sat down in her chair with her legs apart, the leather creaking under her weight. She hooked her thumb into the crotch of her white lace knickers, pulling the delicate fabric aside to reveal the neatly trimmed strip of hair and the dark pink lips beneath. “Crawl,” she commanded, her voice devoid of anything but cool expectation. “On your hands and knees. Get over here and worship my cunt, whore.”
Sarah’s body moved before her mind could fully protest, the sting in her arse a persistent reminder of her place. The soft pile of the office rug scraped her knees as she crawled the short distance, the world reduced to the view between Fiona’s spread thighs.
“Look at it,” Fiona said, her fingers parting herself further, exposing the glistening, intimate flesh. “Have you tasted a woman before?" Sarah nodded
"Of course you have. Get your mouth on me. Lick.”
Sarah leaned in, conscious not just of the heat emanating from Fiona but also the two bouncers watching. She pressed her mouth to the outer lips, tasting salt and skin. Her tongue ventured timidly, a flat, unsure stroke. Fiona grabbed her by the hair and pulled her in, "Do it!!"
Sarah zeroed in on the swollen nub, circling it with a firmer point of her tongue before drawing it into her mouth. Fiona’s grip in her hair tightened, guiding her rhythm. “That’s it. Faster. Harder. You’re good at this, aren’t you? Your husband must love your mouth.” She pushed Sarah’s face deeper, grinding against her. “Do you think about him when you suck other men's cocks for money? Will you tell him how you got on your knees for me after I had you beaten.”
The words sent a jarring bolt through Sarah’s gut as she shook her head. She moaned against Fiona’s flesh, the vibration earning a sharp gasp. She tried to ignore her own arousal.
“You love this, you dirty bitch,” Fiona hissed, her hips beginning to rock. “Is her cunt wet, Eddie?"
He bent down and touched her roughly, pushed a couple of fingers inside. "fuck yes, she's gagging."
Terry withdrew his glistening fingers, “Let me taste,” Fiona panted and took his wrist, guiding his fingers to her mouth. She sucked them clean, her eyes locked on Sarah. She savored the taste, her tongue swirling around his knuckles. “Mmm. Salty. Sweet.”
“Enough for now.” She gave Sarah a flagrant, brusque appraisal.
"I want to see you in action," Fiona said, she turned her head slightly toward where Marcus stood, a towering, silent presence near the bookcases. "Marcus, my love. Do you want that huge black cock of yours sucked now?"
Marcus’s smile was slow, revealing perfectly white teeth. He nodded once, his large hands already moving to his belt. "I wouldn't say no, Ma’am."
Fiona’s gaze didn’t waver from Sarah’s face. "Eddie." She glanced at the head bouncer. "You’ve been very patient. Do you want to fuck her?"
Eddie didn’t hesitate. "I do, Ma’am." He said sniffing his fingers. His eyes roamed over Sarah’s reddened arse, still on display on her hands and knees. "But I really want her arse."
Fiona’s lips curved in a thin, pleased line. "Do you do anal, Sarah? Does your husband fuck you in your arse?"
"Yes, sometimes." Sarah replied still kneeling between Fiona's legs.
"Good," Fiona said, her voice cold and decisive as she pushed Sarah’s head away from her thighs. "I want to watch this."
Eddie manouevered Sarah onto the sofa, his thick fingers digging into her sore arse, while Marcus stood at the end, opening his trousers to take a huge cock out.
Sarah was stunned by the size of Marcus, his cock was a thick, veined monstrosity, far thicker and longer than Eugene’s, jutting heavily from his open trousers. She heard a noise and looked over to see Eddie picking up a black bottle of lubricant from the desk, Fiona next to it settling back in her chair, putting her hand between her legs to play with herself.
Eddie's cock was out, already glistening as he smeared the clear lubricant he smeared along its thick length. Marcus stepped forward and slapped his huge, heavy cock against Sarah’s cheek once, twice, the hot, before he shoved the broad head past her lips. She opened instantly, her jaw straining as he filled her mouth, the salty taste of his skin flooding her senses.
She gasped with her mouth full as behind her without any prelude Eddie begsn to finger her pussy. Then his slick fingers found her anus, first one, then two, pushing in brutally without care. “Need to stretch this tight arsehole,” he muttered, working a third finger in.
Fiona’s cool voice urged him on. "Fuck her whore arse, Eddie."
Terry positioned the slick, blunt head of his cock against her stretched opening. He pushed forward firmly and unrelentingly, til the head breached her tight muscle. Sarah groaned around Marcus’s girth, the sound a muffled, desperate against his shaft as her body shuddered from the sudden, unbearable fullness. “That’s it, take it,” Eddie grunted, his hands vise-like on her hips, not moving yet, just letting her feel the invasion. Fiona leaned forward, her breath quickening, watching Sarah’s arse stretch obscenely around Eddie's thick cock.
“All the way,” she commanded . Terry obeyed, sheathing himself fully with one brutal, grinding shove that forced a ragged scream from Sarah’s throat, a sound muffled by Marcus’s fat cock.
Marcus chuckled, a low, vibrating rumble she felt through his shaft. “Scream around this, darling,” he said, his hands tightening in her hair as he began to piston in and out of her mouth. Her world narrowed to two points of violent invasion: the relentless stretch of her arsehole, burning as Eddie set a punishing rhythm, and the choke of a cock battering the back of her throat. Spit and pre-cum dripped from her stretched lips onto the red velvet sofa.
Tears blurred her vision and she could hear Fiona’s faint, rhythmic sighs, the slick sound of her own fingers working between her legs. “Look at her take it,” Fiona murmured, not to anyone, just narrating the spectacle. “Like a real whore.”
Eddie's thrusts were deep, each one jolting her body forward onto Marcus’s cock. The sensation in her arse was a full raw tenderness and beneath the violation, her own pussy pulsed, a wet heat she couldn’t suppress. The shame of that response burned hotter than the stretching sensation.
“Gonna fill this tight arse,” Eddie grunted, his rhythm fracturing, his pace turning jagged and urgent. His grip on her hips was bruising, holding her impaled as he slammed home. “Take it, you posh bitch.”
Sarah felt him swell, then erupt, a scalding flood painting her insides with his cum. He held himself there, pulsing, before pulling out with a wet, sucking sound that made her cringe. She felt suddenly, terribly exposed, his cum leaking down her trembling thighs.
Before she could gasp for air, Marcus withdrew from her mouth with a slick pop. “My turn,” he stated, his voice casual, as if discussing a change of drivers. He pushed her forward, her sore cheek flat against the velvet, and wiped the head of his cock against her pussy.
Eddie, still breathing heavily, moved to the front. He slapped his semi-soft, glistening cock against her face wiping the sticky mess off it onto her
Behind her, Marcus positioned himself. He was far bigger than Eddie. The pressure was immense, a blunt, impossible force. "No! Too big!" she cried
“Breathe out,” he instructed calmly and to her relief positioned his cock against her pussy. The push still stole her breath and made her yell out
“Fuck, she’s tight,” Marcus growled, but he didn’t stop, pushing steadily until he was fully inside. Then he began to move, each stroke a slow, devastating conquest. Eddie, now hard again turned her face to the side and put his balls against her mouth and commanded her to lick.
They used her in a brutal, synchronous rhythm. Her a piece of meat passed between them. The room dissolved into a haze of sweat, musk, and the crude slap of flesh. Fiona shuddered and a sharp moan cut through. “Yes,” she breathed, her climax running through her.
Marcus’s control snapped. “Gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. He buried himself to the hilt, his body locking as he pumped jet after jet of hot cum deep into her pussy.
"Well done gentlemen, that was very good fun!" Said Fiona, as Sarah still on hands and knees was screamingly aware of her own need to cum.
"Clean yourself off Sarah and go home. I have just the job for you next week..."
Sarah picked up her things and rushed back to the dressing room, she washed off and got her clothes back on and went out the waiting cab to go home.
Rory was again waiting as she came in. He was in his underwear, obviously excited to hear. "How was tonight?" He asked excitedly.
She could see the outline of his hard cock through his boxers. She walked over to him, her steps slow and deliberate. She could feel the wetness between her legs, the desperateness to climax.
She reached out and grabbed his cock through the fabric, feeling it twitch under her touch. "You want me to tell you all about it, don't you?" she whispered, her voice low and sultry. She could see the hunger in his eyes, the way his breath hitched as she squeezed him.
"Yes." He croaked. There was a burning between her legs. She pulled her jeans and knickers off and sat in an armchair with her legs open. She took her top and bra off.
"You want to know about men looking at your naked wife, seeing my tits, my arse?"
"Yes!" He said again.
"Maybe some of the sexier ones - I even let them see my cunt." She opened her legs wider apart.
"Oh God, yes!" He had his cock in his and now quickly stroking it.
"No." She said nodding to his cock. "I've been working, not you. Get on your knees and get your tongue in here while i tell you about men looking at me." She had decided to tell him a very sanitised version of what happened, not about Fiona's office. She had to tell him something. She needed to cum and telling him a story excited her even more. She was desperate. She was soaking wet. "I had a few men tonight," she said, her voice husky. "They wanted to see me naked. They wanted to see my tits, my arse. A couple even got to see my cunt." She spread her legs wider
Sarah whispered, her fingers tracing the slick folds of her pussy, spreading her wetness up to her clit. She circled it slowly, teasing herself, her hips lifting slightly off the chair. "I kept thinking about how you'd want to hear about it. How you'd want to fuck me after I told you."
Rory dropped to his knees in front of her, his breath hot against her inner thighs. "Tell me everything," he begged, his voice rough with need. "Tell me how they looked at you. How they touched you."
Sarah moaned as Rory's tongue flicked out, tasting her.
She arched her back, spreading her legs wider, giving him full access to her swollen, dripping cunt. "Oh fuck, yes," she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "That's it, baby. Lick me. Lick your naughty wife's cunt."
Rory groaned against her, his tongue diving deep into her folds, lapping up her arousal. He dragged his tongue up to her clit, circling it with the tip before sucking it into his mouth. Sarah gasped, her hips bucking against his face as she erupted into climax, shaking and legs kicking, her pussy flooding his mouth with her juices.
"Get up, stroke your cock, cum on me while i'm naked in front of you."
"Is that that you fantasise about? In the club"
"Yes," she said, it was sort of true. Rory stood up pointed his cock at her and started stroking if vigorously.
Sarah watched him, her body still trembling and spread her legs wider, her fingers still playing with her swollen clit. She could see he was near to cuming
Sarah moaned, her fingers now holding her lips apart so he could shoot into her. "One guy i could see his cock through his trousers. The footballer. God he was hard. And he was big," she said, her voice breathless. "Bigger than yours. Thicker too. He was staring at me like he wanted to rip my clothes off and fuck me right there in thev booth." Sarah's voice was a low, sultry purr as she watched Rory's hand move faster, his cock twitching in his grip. "I could see the outline of his cock, Rory. I couldn't help it, i pulled my knickers down so he could look at your wife's bare cunt.
Rory groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stroked himself. "Fuck, Sarah... Argghhh!" He exploded onto her open pussy, thick ropes of cum splattering across her swollen lips. Sarah moaned as his hot seed hit her clit, the sensation sending another wave of pleasure through her. She rubbed his cum into her skin, spreading it over her tits and belly. "Look at me, Rory," she whispered, her voice thick with lust. "Look at your wife, covered in your cum."
Rory's eyes were glued to her, his chest heaving as he watched her touch herself. "God, you're so fucking hot," he groaned, his cock still twitching in his hand.
Sarah leaned back in the chair, her body glistening with sweat and cum.