The Best of Kay Jaybee (10 page)

Stripping, I squeezed behind Jenny, my back against the divider that separated the driver from his passengers; I crouched behind her, my fingers busy over her left teat, while my other hand wove its way to her wet snatch. Shifting slightly, I stretched a finger to her opening, and eased it inside, making her sigh around Lee's dick. I worked fast, feeling her excitement rise as I pinched her nipple and kissed her back.

Sensing Jenny was about to come, Lee thrust his groin deeper into her face. Almost instantly, Jenny overloaded on sensation. As she shivered and jacked against us, sandwiched by lust, she dropped Lee's dick, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She didn't have time to recover however, for Lee spun Jenny into the seat next to him and, switching his attention my way, hoisted me into the air, impaling me onto his cock.

As he filled me, I locked my eyes into those of the cabbie. ‘This could have been you,' I gasped through Lee's thrusts, ‘but from what I hear, you've had more than your fair quota of women lately.'

I moaned as Jenny's mouth came to my right tit, while her fingers found my left. Meanwhile, Lee's chest began to blotch red with the signs of his fast-approaching climax.

‘Lee's gonna come, Nathan. I wonder how much you'd like to swap with him right now.'

Nathan blinked, but his jaw remained set around the gag.

‘I can't believe you don't want to be in his position.' I paused, swallowing down my own need to come, ‘Perhaps we've all got it wrong? Perhaps you'd like to suck some cock rather than pussy?'

Nathan began to swear into his T-shirt, ‘Now, now, honey, it was only a suggestion. You shouldn't be afraid to explore your sexuality, you know.'

Lee tapped my leg urgently. It was now or never.

I leapt off Lee's lap, making him yelp with loss; a yelp I would have echoed if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on what was going to happen next. Pulling Nathan to his feet, I dragged down his jeans and boxers, watching with satisfaction as his cramped dick sprung forward, his neck and back stooped.

‘This is your one chance for some action, Mr Cab Driver. Are you listening?'

He must have sensed from the edge to my voice that I was serious, as this time he nodded without hesitation.

‘Right. You see this cock; the price for an orgasm of your own is to make it come.'

Nathan shook his head frantically.

I shrugged and began to gather up the clothes heaped around our ankles, ‘OK, honey. Up to you, of course, I'd never force you.' I turned to the others, ‘Come on, guys, we'll finish each other off at my place.'

‘Shame,' Jenny spoke ruefully, her hands crossing Nathan's chest, tracing his muscles with the very tips of her fingernails, ‘I was really looking forward to feeling that shaft between my legs again.'

Watching the cabbie intently, I saw him struggling between the desire to fuck Jenny and the idea that he'd have to rub a man off to get what he wanted. Continuing to make “time to go” signals, I turned to Lee. ‘Don't worry, babe, I'll sort that cock out as soon as we get to my flat.' Continuing to talk to Lee, but looking at Nathan, I said, ‘Such a shame, all it would have taken was a well-placed hand or mouth, and all four of us would have been satisfied.'

With three pairs of hungry eyes on him, the Fuck-Me Cabbie appeared genuinely uncertain for the first time. Had he finally realised that we weren't bluffing – that we really would leave him unsatisfied, and go off to continue the fun on our own? I held my breath as Nathan licked his lips. My whole body ached for a continuation of the stimulation it had received. Lee, his dick still tight and stiff didn't look far from begging for relief himself, and I didn't dare glance at Jenny. She was always up for a fuck anyway.

‘Would it be so bad?' I asked, a smile forming at the corner of my mouth. ‘Surely it would be worth it?' I eyed his desperate cock meaningfully. ‘You could decide where that dick of yours ends up. I wonder what you'd choose? My cunt? Jenny's? Maybe a mouth, but I'm guessing not up Lee's arse, although that option is available ...' I let me voice die slowly away, dripping speculation.

The heat in the cab was becoming unbearable, and we couldn't stay there much longer without someone coming to see why an obviously occupied taxi had been still for so long.

It was the act of Jenny putting her shirt back on that finally broke Nathan's resolve. He began to mutter frantically, the words distorted by the gag, which Lee hastily undid. ‘Untie my wrists.' He spoke firmly, if a little huskily after his jaw had been clamped in place for so long, but there was no disguising the pleading lilt to his voice.

I nodded to Lee, who complied immediately.

There was a second's total silence, and then Nathan said, ‘Take those fucking clothes off, girls', as he grabbed Lee's cock in his right palm. Pointedly not looking at what he was doing, Nathan reached out with his other arm and grabbed Jenny, pulling her to his lap, before beginning to kiss her with fierce passion.

Sitting back in my small space, I couldn't take my eyes from Nathan's hand as he jerked off my male lover. Either he'd done this before after all, or his solo efforts at home had made him an expert in penile manipulation.

Lee, breathing deeply, his pleasure at being attended to by a male hand plastered all over his face, pulled me closer, and fastened his mouth to my chest, using my flesh to stifle his grunt of desire.

I could feel Lee's climax rising again as his kisses turned to nips and bites against my nipples. Nathan also noticed, and shifting in the cramped space, moved Jenny to his side, and shoved me to the floor. ‘I want to make him spunk all over those hot tits.'

Seconds later, warm come spattered across my breasts, and Jenny was on her knees licking it up. As her agile tongue soothed up the sweet-salty liquid, I felt my body spasm with longing, and an orgasm begin to flutter in the pit of my stomach.

The moment Jenny's last lap had cleaned me up, Nathan yanked me upwards, banging my head against the ceiling, before turning me to face away from him, and lowering me onto his dick. Hastily pumping up and down, I was stilled as Jenny's mouth came to mine, while Lee lowered himself into the remaining gap between our legs and started to lick my girlfriend's clit.

Nathan came fractionally before I did, in a haze of swirling, dizzying colours that sent me collapsing back onto my spent lovers and the sweat-dampened plastic seats.

Only moments afterwards, we caught our collective breath. Lee picked up the clothes he'd discarded on the floor outside, while the rest of us dressed, our knees and elbows clashing in the small space.

Lee was the first to leave, closely followed by Jenny. I scrutinised Nathan carefully. He'd said nothing since he'd been allowed to join in. ‘Lesson learnt?'

‘What lesson?' Arrogance smirked in the depth of his beautiful eyes.

I should have felt incensed. I'd probably just allowed Nathan to fulfil yet another of his undoubtedly endless fantasies. Instead I just laughed and left him to his cab. I might not have scored the victory for the women of the area I'd hoped to, but I had the priceless memory of watching his body flood with insecurity, however briefly, and that was more than worth the effort. With my body glowing in the aftermath of a thorough seeing too, I found I simply couldn't be annoyed that the Fuck-Me Cabbie was as good a shag as Jenny had told me he was ... But that didn't mean I wouldn't try and take him down a peg or two another day. In fact, I already have another plan ...

Coated

The sound of his own breathing rattled in his ears. He tried to calm himself, to moisten his dehydrated throat and cracked lips. He was afraid, and yet surprised by his fear.

It wasn't as if this had been sprung on him. This was a fantasy that he'd lived with for years; a desire that had consumed him to the point of obsession ever since, as a teenager, he'd seen it in a porn movie.

Ever since he'd glimpsed her out the corner of his eye, standing aloof and alone, looking out of the window of the bus – a creature totally displaced by her surroundings – he'd known she was the one to help him fulfil his dreams. He also knew he had to do something. Get this fixation out of his system – whatever it took.

He'd taken the same bus the next day, and the next. She'd been there, same time, same place, every day. On the fourth day, he spoke to her.

Peering down her imperial nose, a small crinkle forming across her forehead, the woman sneered at him with utter disdain. She didn't actually say, ‘
How dare you presume to talk to me?'
But her thoughts were crystal clear.

That was six weeks ago. Six slow weeks of gradual understanding via little actual conversation. The woman, whose name he still didn't know, had understood what he needed, without him having to tell her; it was just the fine details that he needed to explain and embellish.

He shivered against the chill draft that crept through the gaps between the metal doors that separated the warehouse, in which he stood, from the outside world. The drone of the traffic as it rumbled by the building was both a comfort and a distraction. It was good to know that an ordinary world lay beyond the bare brick walls and empty echoing space, but he feared discovery.

She'd directed him to this disused warehouse. ‘Somewhere suitable', she'd called it, and then left him. He wasn't sure exactly how long ago it had been since he'd been wordlessly stripped and tied. Her face had revealed nothing. No pleasure at the sight of his nakedness, at his stiff cock, at his willingness to obey her bitten off requests.

The jeans and white shirt he'd selected to wear with such care had been discarded without a second thought. He could see them now, dusty on the hard cold concrete floor.

Shifting his bare feet, he flexed his toes, trying to warm them a little, wishing he was miles away, but knowing he had to be there. It wasn't the collar and chain around his neck, fastening him as if he was a wild animal that kept him in place. It was the prospect of the fantasy fulfilment to come.

His shoulder muscles had begun to cramp. Attempting to gain some relief he hunched them up and down as best he could, but was hampered as his arms had been tethered via another long chain to one of the metal props that supported the roof.

The creak of the door as it opened was so subtle that, if he hadn't been listening intently for it, he would have missed it altogether.

Footsteps, soft and yet with deliberate pace, approached him from behind. He could turn, but he didn't. If it wasn't her, then he didn't want to see who it was; but he was sure it was her, for even in those few steps he could feel her self-assured air.

He wondered, as the atmosphere tensed around them, what she was wearing. Not high-heeled boots if the quietness of her footfall was anything to go by. His thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt tug on the chain that held his wrists. It was yanked hard, and he found his arms raised above his head. The drag on the metal was not released until he was balanced on the balls of his feet, hanging like a cur, every muscle in his arms and back straining as the scrape of steel on iron told him his unseen companion was wrapping the slack around the girder.

Sahara dryness claimed his mouth and throat as he waited, hardly daring to breathe. A finger was playing over his backside, and with every touch of the soft pad of her digit, and the accompanying scratch of a fingernail, his flesh puckered into a spread of goosebumps.

A pale elegant hand reached around him, picked up the lead that hung from his neck, and twisted it so it ran directly down his spine. The occasional dig at his neck told him that his attendant was knotting it, attaching an object to the end. Once she'd finished, something heavy and cylindrical pulled his neck back a little as it hung, swinging against the backs of his legs. He didn't want to think about what it might be. Beyond his initial request to have his erotic requirements met, this evening was hers to do with as she liked. That had been the deal.

She stood before him then.

He'd had an image of how she might appear. He'd been wrong; and he was glad. This was much better than where his clichéd imagination had taken him. There was no black or scarlet, no PVC, and no shiny leather. Her hair, rather than being tied back in a severe ponytail, was flowing free around her apricot shoulders, its chestnut sheen positively glowing as it framed her face and narrowed green eyes. A figure-hugging satin cat-suit in darkest burgundy, the trousers of which accentuated her long legs and slim waist, while the neckline plunged at her chest, showing him that her cleavage was everything he'd hoped it would be.

Even with her bare shoeless feet, the effect was more erotic and tempting than if she'd been dressed as a dominatrix on heat. His dick swung alarmingly towards her, and he felt embarrassed at his uncompromising need to have her.

Assessing him with shrewd eyes, the woman traced her fingers over his lips, down his neck and towards his nipples. Squeezing his eyes shut, he anxiously felt his orgasm rising far too soon. Desperate to calm down, frantic not to spunk merely from the application of this amazing creature's fingertips, he exhaled slowly and gently. The joints in his arms began to scream in his ears; and the more he thought about reaching his hands out to fondle her breasts through the silky material, the more his inability to move haunted him.

Stepping forward, she leant towards his right nipple, clasping her mouth around it. The moan that hissed through his teeth morphed into a yelp as she bit into his skin, nipping and snapping at his mini-teat until it pinked and poked against her exploring tongue.

He was so engrossed in feeling the burning pleasure she was creating across his chest that he didn't notice her fish a brilliantly polished set of silver clamps from her trouser pocket.

As the tools sharp zigzag teeth buried themselves into his unsuspecting nipple, the dominatrix swapped to his left side, her attention both deflecting him from, and adding to, his pain. The knowledge that the second clamp was coming only increased his tension, making the hurt far worse than when he'd been taken by surprise.

Once he was adorned to her liking, his mistress stood back and critically examined his new appearance. Nodding to herself with satisfaction, she retreated behind him.

The chain allowed him to twist, but with the first step he took in an attempt to see what she was doing, a fresh wave of delicious suffering coursed through every nerve in his body. The movement jarred his body and radiated a strangled heat towards his shoulders. Thinking better of turning again, he waited impatiently for her next move. Balancing on one foot at a time, flexing each in turn to ease the strain in his legs, he forced himself to wait without begging her to hurry up. His desire for her to speed up collided with his desire to make this experience last.

A silence descended on the room and, for a split second, he panicked. Surely she wouldn't have gone again, not before her part of the bargain had been fulfilled?
Why can't I hear her moving about?

His alarm was short lived, for the soft rustle of a plastic bag reassured him of her presence. Then, with deliberate precision, she stood in front of him, and paraded the items she'd removed from the bag in a short line on the dirty floor.

The butterflies that had been churning in his stomach accelerated. She had bought it all. Exactly as he'd requested. He swallowed very carefully.
Do I really want this?
The shudder of his cock answered his own question as his gaze flickered from the equipment to the woman who'd bought it. The hint of a nipple poking from beneath her suit, and the mild increase in the heaving of her breasts gave her away. She was also excited, but in a much more controlled way.

She picked up the item at the end of the row. The wide black bristled brush flicked gratifyingly through her fingers. He was almost hypnotised by her handling of the decorator's tool, as if he could already feel the touch against his flesh, though it had yet to make contact.

He'd expected her to smooth it over and around his flushed and abused torso, but instead she gestured with her hands, ordering him to swivel around.

It was difficult to obey. The extra twist to the chain that tethered him shortened it a fraction as he moved, resulting in his feet rising higher, and all his weight shifting to his tiptoes.

Despite the cold of the room, sweat dotted his back as well as his forehead. She waited just long enough for him to become impatient, but not long enough for him to plead, although the thought had entered his head. Then, just as the discomfort of his position was becoming all engrossing, he was distracted by the swipe of the bristles over his backside. Both soft and yet harsh at the same time, the brush was pressed against his skin with enough pressure for it to feel somewhere between bliss and anguish. There was no question – this woman was an expert.

With each sweep of the bristles his cock leapt, and he needed to concentrate harder than ever on not coming before she'd done what he most wanted.

Heady sensation swam behind his eyes. All those times he'd got off by coating small areas of himself in patches of emulsion. Watching it dull and harden against his skin, feeling each hair prickle and crack as the brush coated him, and his erection swelled. This was different though. Better. Much better.

Circling the brush in small rotations over his buttocks, he longed to implore her to move it higher, lower – anywhere else – for the remainder of his body was beginning to feel severely neglected. As she worked, the weighted lead at his neck kept being knocked, and as the mistress continued her obsession with his butt, working very carefully and precisely over his anus, he realised what the tool she'd attached was. The thought alone made him shudder afresh. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be right or not.

Kicking at his ankles, his tormentor widened his legs as far as possible within the confines of his restraints. Then, kneeling, she poked at the entrance to his butt with her warm agile tongue. Standing statue still, the discomfort he felt melted away as his whole being focused on what was happening to his arse. The pressure of the lead went slack. She'd picked up the end, and was playing with what he was convinced was a buttplug, at the winking opening of his hole.

Even before she pushed the plug into him, his stomach began to contract. Breathing deeply, doing his best to relax his clenched arse, he groaned out loud as the freshly lubed tool was eased into his vulnerable passage. His groan changed into a guttural yell, half of protest, half of pleasure at this new and unexpected experience.

Once the plug was fully inserted, the lead at his collar tightened, and his neck was craned back further, linked via the leather strap to his butt.

Now surely she'll do what I want – what I
need
!

As if hearing his silent pleas, his new mistress came back in front of him, her complexion flushed.

His eyes shot down her cleavage as she bent to the pot on the floor, and picked up the screwdriver, so neatly placed next to it.

The combination of his stomach churning in reaction to the presence of the buttplug, the strain in his arms, legs and neck, the pinch at his chest, and the extra surge of lust as she placed the screwdriver under the lid, and levered it off the paint tin, took him beyond confused to semi-delirious. This really was going to happen.

As he watched, the initial dipping of the brush seemed to happen in slow motion. Thick creamy white emulsion hung to the brush. She hovered the brush over the tin, knocking off the excess for a second, loose globules hitting the glossy substance and rippling across the surface.

Pausing, as if she was an artist trying to decide where to start on a challenging canvas, she roamed her eyes over every section of his body. Then, coming to a split-second decision, she drew the brush in one firm stripe across his torso.

Closing his eyes, he was instantly lost in sensation. The paint, cold and cloying, filled his navel and highlighted every muscle. Drying almost the second it hit his warm flesh, the emulsion tightened and plastered his skin, making him aware of every minute hair on his body.

Stroke after stroke she continued, every new set of brush marks coating his upper body, his back, and his legs. It was an unusual kind of discomfort. A discomfort he'd been desperate to experience ever since he'd seen body painting on that porn film over a decade ago. Over the years, this craving had reached almost obsessive proportions, dominating every sexual hope, every daily wank.

She took extra care around his nipples, the cool liquid counteracting with the burn of the clamps, as fresh waves of pain were caused when the brush knocked against the silver grips.

His breathing quickened. There was still bare skin that longed to feel the stroke of the brush, and the trail of oozing paint that it left in its wake. He couldn't hold back though. It was too much. Everything felt too good.

‘I'm gonna come!' His cry in the silence felt strange as it ricocheted around the warehouse walls.

She snapped her attention to his face, one look at him telling her he was serious.

It took less than four seconds for her to get where she wanted to be. The top half of the cat-suit was unzipped, and her luscious breasts fell free. Crouching directly in front of his cock, she wrapped one palm around his length, while continuing to apply gloppy liquid with the other hand to his left leg.

She shrieked as his white cream blasted her tits, covering her as effectively as the paint coated him. No words escaped her, but the mistress's eyes spoke volumes of satisfaction as the spunk dribbled down her naked breasts.