Domination Inc. (14 page)

‘What?' Wesley replied.

‘You've never tasted your wife's cunt juices, and you've never had a big dick. So why don't you take my cock in your mouth and find out what it's like to do both? Come on, Wesley, clean me up.'

‘I couldn't,' Wesley replied, even as he was craning forward in his bonds, trying to get closer to Warren's groin.

‘You'll do as I tell you, otherwise I may just leave you tied to that chair all night while I fuck your wife's arse in the spare bedroom. How would you like that, Alan, hearing every moment of what we're doing, knowing exactly where this cock's going, and not being able to watch? Maybe I'll wait until afterwards and then make you suck me clean.'

Wesley said nothing, but the fact that his erection had not diminished in its intensity spoke volumes on his behalf. Warren took his own cock in his hand and rubbed the juice-slick shaft, feeling it thicken and grow to its full length. Then he positioned himself squarely between Wesley's legs and presented the head to Wesley's mouth. There was a moment's hesitation, then Wesley's lips encircled Warren's glans and he began, nervously, to suck. The sensation was so different to that of being in Carol's soft mouth, the warm wet pressure Wesley was applying heightened by the knowledge that, by letting another man pleasure him in this way Warren was breaking one of his own taboos.

‘Come on, Alan, suck me harder,' Warren ordered, and the man hastened to comply, his head bobbing up and down more rapidly. By the way his eyes had closed and the way he was taking more of Warren's length into his gullet, Wesley was giving every indication of enjoying what he had been compelled to do. As the sensation mounted, Warren caught hold of Alan's sparse fair hair and pulled the man's head harder onto his cock. Instead of complaining at having his mouth used in this way, or attempting to pull away, Wesley submissively allowed Warren to dictate the speed of his thrusts. Having come once already, Warren expected to last longer, but the novelty of the situation was too much for him, and it seemed all too short a time before he was pumping his come to the back of Wesley's throat, the man swallowing every drop. He groaned, and swore on the lives of all the saints he could remember.

He finally opened his eyes, aware that Wesley was staring at him meekly. ‘So, what's it like to have a big cock, then, Alan?' he enquired.

‘Amazing,' Wesley replied.

‘Good man,' Warren said, and reached down. Wesley, expecting to have his wrists untied, relaxed. Instead, Warren's hand caught hold of Wesley's cock and began to wank him without ceremony. Wesley's breathing speeded up and he began to whimper with pleasure as Warren's fingers quickly and methodically brought him to climax. It was over within seconds, Wesley's stringy come oozing down over Warren's fist.

As he raised his fingers to Wesley's mouth, ordering him to lick them clean, Carol came through the door, carrying a tray on which stood the bottle of champagne and three glasses. If she registered her husband's flaccid member, and the trace of semen at one corner of his mouth, she said nothing. She poured the champagne as Warren finally released her husband from his impromptu bondage.

Warren took the proffered glass and drank from it deeply, relishing the way the bubbles popped against his tongue.

The night had barely started; there was still a lot he had to show the Wesleys about the joys of submission. A smile crossed his face as he wondered just how far he would be able to push them. He thought of the hungry look on Alan's face as he had watched his wife being shafted, and the relish the couple had expressed every time the subject of anal sex had been mentioned, and suspected it would be quite a long way.

He settled back, glass in hand, and silently toasted the beautiful, absent Laurel for the pleasures yet to come.

 

 

 

 

 

Joe Gallagher completed the last of twenty repetitions on the pec deck and stared at his reflection in the mirror that ran the length of the gym wall. A light sheen of sweat coated his upper body, and his sleeveless grey marl vest was stained with dark patches where it clung to his pectoral muscles. Still, it had not been a bad workout, and the best part of it was that he was being paid to sit here and exercise.

He still felt slightly self-conscious about being in such an exclusive health hydro. Normally his exercise sessions took place in his local gym, which was frequented mostly by amateur boxers and serious fitness freaks. This was a place for posers, he thought disdainfully; the equipment here was the most up-to-date he had ever used, and yet the other clients seemed to be more concerned with the cut of their designer leotards than with putting some proper training in.

Then again, he had to admit that the leotard-clad girls he had seen going through their aerobic paces in the dance studio would be a welcome sight in old man Greenwood's gym. Joe could quite happily have stood for ever and watched that array of firm breasts and toned buttocks, accentuated by clinging lycra in all colours of the rainbow, as the girls stretched and gyrated and thrust their pelvises in an almost indecently explicit routine. He could also have made himself very much at home in the inviting-looking spa complex, with its sauna, steam room, bubbling jacuzzi and aqua-tiled swimming pool. When he had first begun the process of recovering from his accident, trying to regain the strength in his damaged left leg, he had swum for hours almost every day. It was the best way to build up the muscle tone, the hospital's physiotherapist had informed him, and even now he preferred swimming to working out on the treadmill or exercise bike.

However, a relaxing swim was definitely not on the agenda today. The client he was waiting for, a Natalie Wolf, had asked for a scenario which revolved around the gym, and that was what she was going to get.

Joe was surprised to have been asked to take part in this session. The bulk of female clients requesting a dominant male were still serviced by Warren Keating. It was something to do with the man's air of dark, brooding menace, enhanced by the beard which emphasised the contemptuous set of his mouth, and the condescending, masterful look he achieved by narrowing his heavy-lidded gaze. Joe practised the look himself, half-closing his eyes and staring scornfully through his long, sandy lashes. ‘Not bad, sunshine, but you need a bit more practice,' he told his reflection wryly.

Natalie Wolf was not paying for dark menace, though; she wanted a fit firm young hunk to play the rôle she had requested, and in that respect at least, Joe fitted the bill. He still felt slightly less confident in his ability to act the part of the dominant master. Unlike Warren, he had never seriously experimented with sadomasochistic sex until he'd joined forces with Laurel to run Domination Inc., and with no regular partner in his life, he had little chance to practise the skills he hoped he was honing on his agency call-outs.

He would not have been comparing himself to Warren, he knew, if it had not been so obvious that Laurel was sexually attracted to the man. For all that they affected to dislike each other, Joe knew that the tension which was growing between Warren and Laurel was the sort which could only be dispelled by means of a good hard fuck, presumably after Laurel had had her backside tanned a deep cherry red by Warren's palm. Joe had never classed himself as the jealous type, but the thought that she might one day end up in Warren's bed provoked envious feelings that were almost impossible to ignore. If Laurel ever broke her self-imposed rule about not having a relationship with someone she worked with, he wanted it to be him, and not Warren, who slid his cock into her velvet depths and pressed his groin against the warmth of her just-punished arse. Perhaps it was just as well Laurel had declared herself off-limits; at least Joe currently had the satisfaction that if he wasn't getting anywhere with her, then neither was Warren.

His reverie was disturbed by the sound of the gym door opening and shutting behind him. Joe stared straight ahead, apparently still lost in thought, but watching Natalie Wolf's mirror image walk towards him. Warren would be disappointed at missing out on this assignment: Miss Wolf was one hundred per cent babe. Joe felt his cock stiffening just watching the slow, sinuous movements of her hips as she approached him. She had mentioned to Laurel that she was originally from California, where everyone was a workout freak, and that she had competed in the Stateside version of
Gladiators
, but nothing could have prepared Joe for the perfection of her body. Her crow-black hair, mahogany skin and prominent cheekbones marked her out as being of Native American extraction, and her tall lithe body was perfectly proportioned. She wore a sawn-off black T-shirt that barely covered her large firm breasts, and her black lycra cycling shorts clung indecently to the V of her sex, her plump labia outlined in minutest detail. She looked like an X-rated version of Pocahontas, and she was Joe's to command. Hitting the Lottery jackpot could not have felt sweeter.

‘I hope I'm not late,' she said, her voice sounding to Joe's instantly besotted ears like honey being poured over gravel.

He swung round lazily, climbing down from the pec deck, and made a show of looking at his watch. ‘Just on time,' he told her. ‘Luckily for you.'

There was a thin towelling band around Natalie's left wrist, and she used it to twist her hair up into a high ponytail. ‘You won't make me work too hard, will you?' she asked, sticking to the scenario she had discussed with Laurel. ‘I like to keep in shape, but I don't want to torture myself.'

‘We'll see,' Joe said. ‘I want you to do five circuits of the gym, just as a warm-up.'

Natalie nodded, and began to jog slowly round the room. Joe watched as she moved, admiring her easy grace. Apparently, she was an investment banker, putting in six months' secondment to the London arm of the operation, and it was obvious to him that she invested pretty heavily in her appearance, too.

Once she had completed her circuits, Joe asked Natalie to do some simple stretches, loosening her hamstrings and the muscles in her shoulders and back. That done, the hard work could begin.

‘Okay, we'll start with the treadmill,' he said. Natalie went to stand on the rubber conveyor belt, and Joe turned the machine to its lowest setting. Having accustomed her to walking pace, he began to gradually turn up the speed, so that soon she was trotting gently, then running, staring confidently into the middle distance, her impressive chest rising and falling as she took deep breaths. He could have watched her forever, but that was not in his plan. He increased the tempo notch after notch until she was practically sprinting. Supremely fit as Natalie was, there was no way she could keep pace with the rapidly-moving treadmill for very long. She stumbled a couple of times as she attempted to carry on running, and caught hold of the handrails to help her keep her balance, glancing round at Joe anxiously. Aware that he did not want her to hurt herself, Joe turned the speed control until Natalie was moving at a jog once more.

‘I thought you told me you were fit,' Joe sneered, silencing Natalie's immediate protests with a curt, ‘You need a lesson in how to maintain a steady pace. Keep jogging, hands on the handrail, and look straight ahead.'

He knew that as Natalie gazed stonily forward, she would be able to watch in the mirror as he went over to the kit bag he had left by the far wall and took out of it the implement she had specified for her chastisement – a long, supple leather belt about two inches wide. Joe flexed it thoughtfully as he walked back to the treadmill.

‘Okay,' he said, ‘a decent athlete keeps going at all times, whatever the distractions. So let's see if you're a decent athlete.' As he spoke he wrapped the end of the belt around his hand, cradling the buckle in his palm. He positioned himself behind the jogging Natalie, raised his arm and brought the belt down smartly. It cracked against Natalie's taut arse cheeks, the sound magnified by the tight lycra of her shorts. She yelped, but kept running.

‘Good, that's better,' Joe said. His wrist flicked and the belt snaked out again, catching Natalie full on the crown of her buttocks. ‘Now one more for luck, and we can move on,' he said, surprised by his own dexterity. This time the belt hit Natalie across the softer underhang of her bottom, and her howl of complaint was the loudest yet.

Joe was as good as his word, switching off the treadmill and allowing Natalie to climb down from it. She bent over, hands on her knees. Tendrils of her dark hair clung to her perspiring forehead, and her damp T-shirt was moulded to the contours of her breasts, revealing clearly that despite the fullness of her breasts, she was not wearing a bra.

Joe allowed her to recover for a couple of moments in that position, then issued his next command. He pointed to a free-standing frame which supported a single metal bar at roughly head height. ‘You can do chin-ups, can't you?'

‘Sure I can,' Natalie replied nonchalantly.

‘Right, show me.'

Joe stood, arms folded impassively, as Natalie caught hold of the bar and used the strength in her arms to haul herself up. Once her chin was above the bar she dipped gently back down again, repeating the movement a dozen or more times without too many signs of effort or discomfort. As she moved, her T-shirt rode up slightly, offering Joe tantalising glimpses of the undersides of her breasts. His cock was almost painfully hard as he watched her, chafing against the fleecy lining of the baggy jogging bottoms he was wearing.