Going Up and Going Down (21 page)

My mobile rang
about ten minutes before I was due to finish work for the day.

“Hi, Helen!
It’s me. Sorry about the disruption to plans – our flight from New York was delayed nearly twenty four hours because of the weather in the States. I
cancelled last night’s hotel booking when I realised.”

(I hadn’t been
happy that previous night, sneaking about in the service lift and hotel
corridors to find that his usual suite was unoccupied. I was taking a big
enough risk as it was, conducting my illicit business in the place where I was
employed). He went on to ask if I was free in the evening. Being as I had
nothing else planned I told him it wouldn’t be a problem. After he’d told me
when and where, a lodge, part of an estate, and a fellow actor’s residence, I
hung up. I sent a quick email to Simon once I was ready and I set off walking.
After I’d turned the corner and out of sight of Anthony, I hailed a black cab.

Twenty five
minutes later I arrived at my destination and knocked on the door. The guy who
answered the door took my coat and showed me into a tastefully decorated
sitting room where a beautiful log fire was burning, and where my client
waited. He jumped up and smiled as I walked across towards him. I couldn’t help
but notice the blonde highlights in his sandy coloured hair. He looked much
hotter than I remembered, but not quite as hot as the sex that I was looking
forward to. I could feel my tingling starting down below, memories of our last steamy
session re-surfacing quickly.

“How are you,
Helen?” he asked as he kissed my cheek “How long is it since…?”

“Two mon…” but
before I could finish he cut in rather rudely,

“Helen, there’s
somebody I would like you to meet tonight.” and as if that had been her cue,
she walked in from what must have been the door to the kitchen - about five
foot six, with a body so painfully thin. Her hair was blonde and cut in a
shaggy style – she was very pretty with cheekbones many girls would die for. It
dawned on me that I had seen her before – she had been in a film where my
client had been leading male but her total exposure throughout the whole film
had been five minutes, tops. I didn’t need any warning bells here though, it
smacked me in the face instantly – he wanted a threesome.

“Phebes, this
is, Helen. Helen, this is…”

Still feeling
irritated by his interruption seconds before, and the fact that I was not
particularly happy about this little twist I couldn’t resist snapping back,

“Phebes? Yes,
you just said!”

She never
approached me to shake hands and whilst it occurred to me to do so, I was too
bloody annoyed. This had just been sprung on me at the last minute and my head
was in complete turmoil. I had never been touched by a woman sexually, neither
had I ever been involved in a threesome. I felt repulsed. My stomach was
lurching, and I felt half inclined to leave.

Remembering
that I was getting paid to give what the client asked of me, I nodded when he
asked if I wanted white wine. I didn’t trust myself to speak, I was so shaken,
but I knew the wine would relax me – it usually did the trick. Phebes poured
herself a whisky and sat down next to me. I felt only slightly more at ease
after I’d had a couple of glasses. We indulged in some idle gossip and although
I still had nagging doubts I did my best to contribute to the conversation.
Over and over in my mind I kept telling myself you are still here, you could
have gone home thirty minutes ago.

Phebes
eventually moved onto the rug in front of the fire and she immediately started
to remove her clothing. I felt nervous. My skin was hot and clammy, but it also
felt as if a giant icicle was living within me, and I wondered if it was about
to thaw. Glancing over at my client for some indication of what I was expected
to do, I shrugged my shoulders at him. Sensing my apprehension and naivety, he
tried to put me at ease. Leaning towards me, he almost whispered in my ear,

“Why don’t you
go and sit with Phebes on the rug – get to know her better?”

My insides were
cringing, but after taking a little longer than normal to finish off the dregs
in my glass, I did as he’d suggested. I stiffly plonked myself down about two
feet away from her, following her lead by unbuttoning my top. Coming closer
towards me she put her hand on mine and held it still. I winced at her touch
and she looked directly into my eyes.

“Don’t, Helen.
I
will do that – it will be
my
pleasure.” she said eagerly. She moved in
to kiss me, but realising from my grimace that kissing was not on offer, she
kissed around my throat and neck instead. A little unsure how I felt about
having a woman’s lips kiss me, I was tense…but…it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Her hands slowly unbuttoned my top and unfastened the clasp on my bra. Looking
into my eyes for a reaction all the while, she slid my denims down my legs and
flung them into a chair. She moved her hands teasingly up my thighs and let her
fingers edge their way into my thong. My head was telling me that it didn’t
feel right but my body was surprisingly experiencing the early ripples of an excitement
I couldn’t begin to explain.

I looked across
at my client, expecting him to join us. He nodded back at me - a nod that told
me just get on with it. He had started to unzip his trousers though. I gave a
sigh of relief –
this
was not my normal sort of business. It seemed as
if Phebes had no inhibitions at all. She behaved as if this was something she
was more than familiar with. She was running her fingers through my pussy hair
whilst with her other hand she fondled my breasts, biting occasionally on my
nipples, and I squealed in pain each time. Suddenly, she yanked on my thong and
it snapped.

She pushed my
fingers quickly towards her own bush and, alarmed by the move, I sat upright. I
had no desire to touch her in that way.

“Don’t think
for one minute, that
I
am going to fuck
you,
Phebes!” I snapped,
“I don’t
do
the fucking – I
get
fucked!”

“And I am
happy
to fuck you, honey. I just wanted you to feel that woman part of me, my cunt,
before we get down to it – relax, you don’t have to touch me if you don’t want
to.”

I wondered why
he wasn’t joining us just yet. I needed some normality to ease my panic. I
tried to put thoughts of Phebes to the back of my mind by concentrating on
another client, a special someone, special sex. I laid down again, more relaxed
but…not quite resigned.

“Lay on your
stomach, Helen.”

As I rolled
over I caught sight of him again - completely naked on the settee, his hand
slowly massaging his piece of muscle, with its wrinkled skin. She passed me
three cushions off the settee,

“Put these
under your tummy - raise your bottom into the air.” bossed Phebes.

I was hardly in
position before I could feel her tongue licking all around my buttocks, her
hands around the front of my thighs, yet again stroking my pubes. She teased,
she tormented, brushed her fingers gently, but swiftly, over my clit and away
again. Her tongue barely touched my anus, and was moved quickly away. I closed
my eyes. I didn’t have to, but I couldn’t see her anyway, so I imagined the
tongue and fingers to be those of a man, a special man. I had always been good
at pretending when I had to, and it was essential for me in this new situation.
It was feeling good, I was enjoying every second of the anticipation…the
waiting…waiting for the tongue to lick my pussy, waiting for the fingers to
slide into it, then for the tongue to lick my clit.

This had to be
a man pleasuring me, preparing me to be well and truly fucked. I didn’t have to
wait too long. His tongue, I was almost believing it
was
him, started gently
stabbing into my anus, gentle thrusts that started making me shudder with
delight. His finger, a lovely male finger, replaced the tongue which had moved
to my sensitive area between anus and pussy. He was rubbing it, moving more
rapidly. He slid his tongue quickly in my hole and out again. Such torment! He
shoved his fingers hard in me, in and out, in and out. They entered my hole
again and again as his tongue worked over my clit with such deliberation. I
moaned with delight, savouring every second as I felt my juice flow, coming and
coming again, and I wanted the feeling to go on forever. I placed my hands on
the floor and raised my upper body throwing my head back in intense pleasure,
before lowering myself down just a few seconds later.

Whilst I lay
there still shaking from the multiple orgasm that had rocked my body, I was
aware that contact between us had broken. I was aware only of some movement,
somebody passing something over me, it all happened in a flash. Then he was
inside me properly, not his tongue or his fingers but his cock, inside me,
fucking me like crazy, and his cock felt strange - different, knobbly even. But
I loved it. The knobbles were massaging every glorious nerve ending contained
within my vagina. I held on as long as I could, which wasn’t long. I had no
choice but to let go as one
giant
orgasm sent me soaring into outer
space and back. It was delicious and I cried out with the over sensitivity as
his cock continued fucking me hard and fast, thrusting furiously.

“Stop…please!”
I was spent, my body sagged into the cushions. He stopped and rolled me on to
my back to face him and I realised with horror that it was
her
that was
looking down on me.
She
had made me come.
She
had fucked me with
her
cock – a knobbly, strap-on cock. As I lay there, reeling with shock, she got
onto her hands and knees, bent over me and kissed my throat, and with one hand
she guided her cock in and started fucking me again. My client, fully hard at
last, came over and bent over her. He shagged her, very roughly, up the
backside, holding on to her tight as he thrust into her, thrusting into me. His
powerful thrusts into her gave more momentum to her thrusting into me.

I was on fire,
the dirty fucking was taking me places I had never been before. I was euphoric
when I came again, producing fresher spurts of wetness caused as much by the
thought
of crudity as the physical feelings inside me. I lost all sense of control at
that moment. I raised my head and sucked hard on her breasts, reaching down
with my hand I fingered her clit before sliding them inside her. It didn’t take
her long. She climaxed quickly and moved out of the way still moaning. After
removing the strap-on cock she sat on the edge of the settee, shoved it up
herself, and proceeded to pleasure herself with it. As I was already on my back
he didn’t waste his time moving me. He quickly forced my legs in the air over
his shoulders and rammed his cock hard inside me, thrusting as if his life
depended on it. I could feel his balls smacking hard against my backside and it
was me who got his juices ten minutes later as he climaxed, yelling out loud.

His excitement
at watching us had clearly induced his pleasure to dizzying heights. Phebes was
on her hands and knees again and grasped my hand, and with her in control of my
fingers over her clit, she came violently, and with screams of ecstasy.

She wanted to
share a bath afterwards and I suspected that she was maybe seeking something
extra, but I was totally wrong. She was in fact trying to act like she was my new
best friend – though I’ve never had a best friend who wanted to share a bath
with me. I played along in an amiable manner - discussing fashion, our
favourite designer labels and our favourite stores to shop in London.

After drying
myself off, I dressed and went back into the lounge to collect my payment. He
offered me a glass of wine or something a little stronger. I quickly checked my
watch – I had fifteen minutes until my cab was due to return for me – so I
accepted. He handed me the wine and my payment and we indulged in small talk
until Phebes joined us in a beautifully made, silk kimono. Feeling unusually
out-spoken, I asked about the relationship between the pair, to be told that
they didn’t regard what they did together to be an affair. They considered it a
business arrangement that takes place once or twice a year. It sounded as if she
would also be getting paid for her services. She was even spending the whole
night with him – I wondered how much that extra service was costing him.

Hearing a car approaching
the lodge which would more than likely be my cab, I picked up my satchel and
said goodbye to them both. Sitting in the back of the cab, I gazed out of the
window throughout my journey home, lost in my thoughts…and shocked at what I
had just done, but not denying how much I had enjoyed the experience. I climbed
into bed forty five minutes later, fit to drop.

Just as I had
expected, the last envelope that I had found in the greenhouse stayed there all
weekend. I made the effort to get up early on both the Saturday and the Sunday
morning. Whether it was because I was either working or reading in the kitchen,
I don’t know, but Anthony went out both days without retrieving the envelope. I
had checked the greenhouse again just on the off chance that he stayed awake
during the night to get the envelope whilst I was sleeping.

It was sometime
whilst I was at work on Tuesday that the envelope disappeared - another date
for my secret log.

Simon called me
on the Wednesday night. He had passed my name and number to another client of
his. The man was in one of the F1 Constructors teams, involved in the design of
the cars. When he called me, he had first asked if I would be willing to
collect him and take him to my house for our business transaction. With having
the rather large problem of Anthony living under the same roof and not knowing
where
he
was planning to be, I told the client that my house was out of
the question. The next option he offered was for me to travel to his lodge. He
was renting a country lodge near Silverstone. It would be a fair drive for me
but as it was well out of reach to anyone who knew me, I thought it shouldn’t
pose too much of a problem. Simon, as usual, had vouched for him.

“He’s a great
guy, you’ll like him, Helen.” I was satisfied at that, but as always, I would
make my own judgement after our first meeting.

I arrived at
11am the following Saturday morning as instructed. Even though I had planned to
arrive ten minutes sooner, my sat nav had its limitations and I ended up first
of all at a farm that was one mile beyond the programmed destination. I quickly
turned round in the farmyard and drove away, before someone came out to enquire
if I was lost.

My new client
wasn’t exactly what you would call rude to me, but he was not particularly
friendly or welcoming either. He pointed to where I could go to get ready and
suggested we get started as soon as possible. He had somewhere else ne needed
to be at 4pm and a car was coming to collect him at 3pm. I had asked him if
there was anything specific he wanted me to bring and he had told me that he
was into ‘uniforms of some description’, but he wasn’t too bothered what I
chose. Other than kinky underwear, school uniform, a maid outfit (from work)
and a nurse’s attire, I didn’t own much else. I had decided to visit a fancy
dress shop the previous day and I purchased, especially for this date
,
a
policewoman’s uniform.

In the tiny
little bedroom he had taken me to, so that I could change, I stripped off and
dressed in a black suspender belt, black seamed stockings and black bra. I
purposely took my panties off. The uniform completed the image. I dashed into
the bathroom to check my make-up and then went in search of the guy, not
knowing where he wanted me, but thinking it would be the master bedroom or the
lounge. I found him in the kitchen. He was standing at the sink swallowing some
tablets. He spun around when I entered the room and for some reason, I thought
I saw a look of anger flash across his face…which just as quickly disappeared
again.

He moved one of
the chairs away from the kitchen table and pushed me backwards until I was sort
of sitting on the edge of it. He pulled at my white shirt, ripping the
buttonholes as he shoved my bra up over my breasts. Not wasting any time at
all, his teeth bit into my left nipple as he roughly pushed the skirt up my
thighs, feeling first for the suspender belt, then my fanny hair. Just as
quickly the hand left my fanny and I heard the telltale sound of him unzipping
his jeans. Then it was his dick that he was guiding with his hand. I was
feeling hot and I wanted to be vulgar. It had been over a week and I wanted
fucking real bad - dirty fucking, fucking that would satisfy me…and hurt. He
poked his knob between the suspender elastic and my thigh, rubbed it through my
fanny hair and roughly shoved it up my hole.

“Fuck it then.
Let me see if you can fuck me good. I so need it.” I was feeling so horny. It
turned me on, talking to him like that…telling him to fuck me good, and I held
my breath with anticipation.

“Suspenders and
stockings – nice choice, Helen! They make me feel like indulging in pure
filth.” he snarled in my ear,

“And I
am
going to indulge in filth, I’m going to fuck you. And I’m going to hurt you as
much as you’ve hurt me.”

I enjoyed my
first orgasm as he rubbed his cock over my clit, I shuddered in pleasure, as
much from his dirty talk as well as the friction on my clit.

My mind drifted
from my vulgar thoughts for a few seconds to wonder who had hurt him…who he
wanted to punish…after all, it wasn’t me who had hurt him. I was jolted back to
reality again as he pushed me back over onto the table. He fucked me rough and
hard for twenty minutes, grinding his pubic area hard into mine, the edge of
the table cutting into my buttocks. I was soon wet down below from my second
orgasm and I wanted more. His fingers were nipping hard at my thighs and then
my tits, especially the nipples. He was thrusting his cock so hard into me, up
as far as he could go (it felt like he was trying to get his testicles in as
well) my stomach was beginning to hurt – in fact, I was hurting all over. I
cried out in pain, and he punched me in the eye. His hands went to my throat
and he squeezed in a threatening manner as he growled,

“Is it hurting
to be fucked like this? I hope so, because I want to hear you cry out - I
want
to hurt you, you filth. I want to hurt your fucking cunt, and I’m going to hurt
more than your cunt, you’re going to experience what pain is all about.”

He carried on
squeezing my throat with one hand, whilst with his free hand he slapped me
across the face half a dozen times. I felt frightened. I didn’t want to come
anymore, the sexual excitement had passed and all I wanted to do was go home.
He bit my bottom lip and the fleshy part of my boob, and I prayed that this was
going to be the extent of the pain. This guy could fuck. But his hurt was even
better. After more than half an hour of him shagging my pussy hard, he was
nowhere near coming and I was sore, very sore. My excitement had long passed
and I was finding his behaviour intimidating.

Without a word
of warning, he pulled his cock out and rolled me over so that I was bent over
the table face down. He pushed my head down towards the table, his cock found
it’s way into my back passage, and just as he’d promised he would – he hurt me
like hell. I cried out in my desperation – quite a few times – which made him
thrust even harder. He was yanking at my hair at the same time, pulling it hard
and hurting my scalp. After what seemed like forever, he pulled his throbbing
cock from my anus, and flung me onto the tiled floor,

“Hands and
knees, filth!”

 I quickly
obeyed lest I should get a fist in my other eye. I expected he was going to
stuff his cock up my arse again, but surprisingly, he started fucking my fanny
again, and already sore from his previous battering of it, it felt like it was
on fire, as he fucked harder, and harder still, and I finally felt that dead
give away, the throbbing of a cock about to explode. He pulled out rapidly,
turned me onto my back, and cock in hand, ejaculated all over me – my hair, my
face, my breasts, stomach, and fanny hair. It was over. I held my breath in
disbelief, but scared he had more to inflict on me.

“You asked for
that, so don’t start fucking complaining.” he said as he watched me standing at
the kitchen sink, dabbing at my face and eye, with cold water,

“and you’re
getting well paid for it.”

I was
mortified. I couldn’t understand what it was he implying. “I don’t recall
asking for anything. How did I ask for it?” I challenged him, acting more
confrontational than I felt,

“You are the one
who asked me to come here!”

“You’re the one
who chose to dress as a fucking policewoman! I never told you to do that!”

I felt totally
bewildered, near to tears and hurting everywhere. Somehow I’d messed up, but I
carried on fighting my corner, and starting to be alarmed at my own cockiness,
but I couldn’t stop myself, I was angry at the way the meeting had turned out.

“You said any
uniform, you weren’t too bothered! I wasn’t to know …what that would make you
do to me!” I indicated my face and the eye that I was softly patting with the
towel.

“Well, the
bitch caught me drink driving. She lost me my fucking licence for two years! I
need my licence for work – she made it difficult for me! The shower is through
there…” he dismissed me, pointing to the bathroom door, “…and your money’s
there.” he indicated a white envelope on the kitchen worktop, “Next time don’t
come as a cop, and you won’t get hurt.”

I couldn’t go
in to work the next week. The skin around my eye was black, the white was no
longer white, my cheeks, breasts and thighs were badly bruised. I was also
bleeding down below and my back was hurting from being thrown onto the hard
tiled floor. I had taken a beating or two prior to this one, but this guy won
hands down, the prize for causing me the most pain. I called Simon and told him
exactly what the guy had put me through and that I don’t want to meet with him
again. He promised me faithfully that he would deal with it. I received a call
from Frigid Flo at the hotel, telling me to be back at work the following
Monday, or I would be receiving a P45.