Afghan Bound (21 page)

The next game saw the removal of the basque. Emily was virtually naked, and her cheeks glowed. The men mumbled compliments at her pierced nipples.

Her next shot was a difficult one, and saw her struggling to hit the cue-ball. She had studied the men playing during the evening, and decided the only way to cope was to lift one knee onto the table-edge to ease the cueing position. The tension increased. Paul coughed awkwardly, as though in a library. Emily's position placed her pierced mound in full view of the watching men. Her naked bottom, underlined by black stockings, looked spectacular in the orange glow and shadows flickering from the fire, and in the glowing red light her silver labial rings glistened.

The sight was too much for Roger. ‘John, do – do you think we should – um – lock the door?'

‘We won't be disturbed,' answered John without peeling his eyes away from the smooth straining legs and raised buttocks. ‘Most of the staff will have already gone home.'

‘It might be a good idea – just in case,' urged David. He knew full well his response had given the men permission to proceed. He backed quietly away into the shadows of a corner and lit a cigar.

The door was secured.

‘Come on Leonard,' encouraged Paul. ‘It's your stag night.'

‘I don't think so.' He licked his lips and ogled Emily lowering her leg and peering inquisitively over her shoulder at him. ‘No, it wouldn't be right… would it?'

‘Go on man,' Paul coaxed again. ‘Make the most of it – it could be your last chance of happiness. It's the ball and chain for you come Saturday.'

Leonard conscientiously replaced his cue in the wall-rack, and then stood close up behind Emily. Her fragrance filled his nostrils. Her closeness was breathtaking. His erection nestled between her buttocks, and even with the safety barrier of underwear and trousers to dull the sensation, he had to close his eyes and concentrate until the critical and potentially embarrassing moment passed. His voice trembled when he eventually spoke softly in her ear. ‘I… I've noticed a fault in your – um – in your cueing.' He reached around her and adjusted her hand positions and grip on the cue. Her soft hair tickled his cheek. Emily was sandwiched between him and the solid table. ‘Bend forward, and line your shot down the cue.'

The three spectators edged a little closer.

Emily followed his coaching, and felt his shirt rub her back as he leant over her, covered her hand with his own, and showed her how to cue smoothly.

‘Keep practicing that,' he said hoarsely. ‘And it helps if you try not to move your head.'

Without tearing his eyes from the erotic scene unfolding, Roger fumbled his cube of chalk onto the edge of the table, missed, succeeded the second time, but it toppled to the floor as soon as he let it go. The sound disturbed no one.

Leonard's fingers started to move lightly over Emily's skin, until he cupped her swaying breasts and felt the pierced nipples prod into his damp palms. ‘Bloody hell, you feel good!' he panted in her ear, and pressed harder against her delicious bottom. He covered her flat stomach with one hand and pulled gently. ‘Stay down as you are,' he continued to prompt. ‘Just step back away from the table a little.'

The two shuffled back, and Leonard tapped her ankles apart with his toe. He straightened himself, squeezed her buttocks and prised them apart. ‘Keep on cueing… that's it… good girl.' As he quietly spoke he inched a hand between them and released his erection. He heard Emily sigh as it sprang free and lay throbbing in her deep valley. The shiny glans pulsed over the lovely dip in the small of her back. Emily's cueing slowed and then stopped. Leonard gave her a sharp slap on the buttock. She gasped and the arm promptly started sawing back and forth again. He eased his hips back a little and aimed his cock at her unprotected sex. She was already moist. He watched the cue travel smoothly towards him, and as it paused and started to slide forward he slipped easily into her. Emily's back arched and the cue rattled on the slate top. She pushed back at Leonard and they were joined as one. He covered her back again, squeezed her breasts, and began to pump vigorously against her, mumbling incoherent encouragement the whole time. Their legs crumpled and they slumped against the table. Emily was folded over its edge. The cue was forgotten, but her blindly clutching hands found a blue and a green ball and squeezed until her knuckles turned white. Her hot cheek squashed against the baize. His hands were trapped under her breasts. She groaned and he panted with each strong thrust.

‘Yesss…!' Leonard stiffened and held himself deep inside Emily as he erupted. He slumped on top of her, and the two lay breathing heavily as they recovered their senses.

Eventually Leonard left her to receive the congratulatory pats on the back from his admiring friends. John passed him a glass of champagne, which was gratefully downed in one.

David remained in the shadows. Only the occasional orange glow from the tip of his cigar as he drew upon it lit his face.

Roger took off his tie and waistcoat as though preparing for a fight. He placed himself behind the still sprawled Emily. She tried to rise as she sensed his closeness, but a hand between her shoulders stilled her. Without ceremony Roger opened his trousers, gripped her hips, and thrust home. Emily shuddered instantly, the orgasm that Leonard so nearly induced finally ripping through her. She flopped forward like a doll, but Roger withdrew, spun her round, and lifted her easily onto the edge of the table. He pushed into her again. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her head lolled onto his shoulder as he thrust to his own release.

‘Paul,' said John. ‘Would you bring her over to the sofa?'

By the time Paul had done as his friend had asked John was sitting with his trousers undone and his erection standing straight and tall. Paul guided her to her knees, and without further encouragement she leant on the sitting man's thighs and her warm mouth closed over his helmet. Paul knelt, nudged her legs apart, and entered her as Leonard and Roger had done.

Emily grunted and slavered around the rigid column as she was shunted back and forth between the enveloping men.

John watched his partner closely, and as Paul's face contorted he released himself into Emily's sucking mouth.

David smiled at the wet sounds Emily was making. She had done well. He was pleased with her, and proud of himself. He emerged from the shadows and all five men smiled at each other – words were not necessary.

The five men lounged around the fire sipping more champagne and nibbling cheese and biscuits fetched from the kitchens by John. Each felt relaxed and replete. It had been an extremely good evening.

‘She certainly is a saucy young lady,' John eventually broke the contented silence. ‘Is she prepared to do everything you ask?'

‘Absolutely,' said David.

‘What,
anything
?' enthused Leonard with a twinkle in his eye. Now that he'd sampled those forbidden delights he wasn't adverse to experimenting some more. It was unlikely any of them would ever meet Emily again, so why not indulge in a little harmless fantasy, one he'd always held a secret penchant for but would not admit to his wife-to-be?

‘What would you like?' asked David casually, although he had a good idea exactly what Leonard – and the others – would like to do to Emily.

‘Oh… I don't know.'

He would have to make it easier for them; none seemed willing to air their secret desires to the others. ‘Well, I think you'd all agree she's got a lovely arse. How about anal sex?'

‘Bloody hell,' Roger leaned forward. ‘Would she do that?'

At that moment the door opened and Emily returned from freshening up in the ladies' room.

‘Why don't you ask her?' said David.

John patted the sofa and handed her a drink as she sat between him and Leonard. Her beautiful body now smelled delicately of soap. None of the four ventured to speak.

‘Emily,' David broke the awkward silence. ‘In a moment I want you to give Leonard a very special wedding present, and then I want you to show your appreciation to John, Paul, and Roger for their hospitality. I believe they each desire you in a certain way, and so you will fulfil those desires. You will pleasure them one at a time with your bottom.'

‘But—'

‘Shhh…' he wagged his finger at her. ‘You've done very well so far tonight – don't disgrace yourself now by forgetting your discipline.'

Emily lowered her eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘Very good… Proceed.'

Emily took Leonard's glass and handed it with her own to John, who in turn placed them on a side-table. She then unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. Leonard gawped, and as he lifted his hips a little she tugged them and his underpants down to his knees. He was already erect, and she blushed at his size. She looked questioningly at David, and he understood her uncertainty immediately. He rose and held the butter dish for her. ‘Here, use this – it'll make it a little easier for you.'

Emily took a scoop in her palm and smoothed it up and down Leonard's column and over the helmet. This time the onus was on her to seduce the men, instead of the other way round. When satisfied he was well lubricated, she stood with her back to him, straddled his legs, and lowered herself over his lap. She fumbled between her own legs, and guided the greased helmet to the entrance of her tight back passage. She could hear Leonard's rasping breath over her shoulder. She looked at David, saw him nod, and then closed her eyes and sat down in one smooth movement.

Leonard gasped and his head slumped back against the sofa. ‘Bloody hell,' he hissed.

Emily sought his hips, and then used them to methodically lever herself up and down.

Unable to resist, John held her bouncing breasts and tweaked her nipples and silver pins. His mouth latched onto them, and David thought it almost comical the way his head desperately rose and fell to keep the erect buds between his lips. Leonard cupped Emily's buttocks and took over the task of rhythmically lifting and lowering them, allowing her to stroke John's head and pull him hard onto her breasts.

‘Bugger this,' mumbled Paul, and he joined the threesome, knelt between Emily's legs, and leaned close to kiss her waiting sex. Her body was coated with a fine film of perspiration and her skin glowed from the dying embers.

David was extremely satisfied. Emily had performed beyond his expectations, and he had acquired four admiring friends. This evening could only do his reputation nothing but good. He glanced at Roger, who was sitting with eyes glued on Emily and cock in hand. David decided it was time to leave the men to their fun and go find his room; it was late and he was tired.

As he turned at the door Roger was kneeling on the arm of the sofa with his erection embedded in Emily's mouth. The four men were devouring her like a pack of wolves. David smiled and quietly slipped from the room.

After a hearty breakfast David inquired of the bleary-eyed men if they would consent to vetting women on a regular basis. ‘It would be a good way for me to gauge the effectiveness of my methods, and would also provide confirmation of their absolute obedience,' he told them. ‘Like an end of term exam.'

Despite their fatigue everyone eagerly agreed, and so was born the Clifftop Club, named after the hotel where the first historic meeting had taken place. In future, once a month, a student would be tested to the limits of compliance. There could be no failures, only retakes after severe revision.

The next two years saw many women come and go. Names tripped fondly off David's tongue. There was Rebecca, Abbie, Hannati and a host of others, each one clearly and dearly remembered. Some had been submissive from the moment his razor first skimmed their quim, but others – so stubborn and proud – had not been so easy to train. But no matter how defiant they were, each one left Camelot pierced, shaved, monogrammed and totally submissive – much to the pleasure of his client.

David's pleasant reminiscing was interrupted by the chink of ice falling into another glass of Scotland's finest tawny, the colour of which matched that of the morning horizon as the sun began it's daily ascent. He realised for the first time just how long he had been talking. He accepted the glass, although his head throbbed a little, and swilled its contents around his mouth. After such a marathon storytelling it felt drier than a cracker in a wind tunnel.

‘Did you have to make any changes to the training programme?' asked Justin, feeling it appropriate to speak now that David had stopped.

‘Not really. I did find it was a great help if I monogrammed them a little earlier. It makes some of the girls feel more secure. It's symbolic I think – sort of like a wedding ring. It shows two-way commitment. And the stubborn ones, well they see it as breaking the final straw to their submission. They're usually a lot easier to control after they've been marked.'

The sun had by now broken the line of the horizon. David returned his empty glass to the tray, rose from his chair, and yawned and stretched. It had been a long long night, and it was time to retire.

‘We can tidy up later,' he said to Justin. ‘Mr Bedi will be here in a few hours. I think we'd better catch some sleep.'