I thought I knew my girlfriend. I thought I knew my boss. I thought I knew myself. It seems everyone is going to know everyone.
When you get a new girlfriend, beware of what she is like.
……..
My name is Graham. I was just an ordinary guy, living my life like everyone else, until…. well,
Allow me to tell you a cautionary tale.
It all started a year ago at the wedding of a senior work colleague. I had recently turned 26, and I was accompanied by my girlfriend Shelly, who was 24. We were suitably dressed, with me in my best suit and her in an expensive frilly white dress. With the afternoon ceremony over and photographs taken, Shelly and I were having a quiet debate about how to get a taxi for the half hour trip to the reception. We’d be having a few drinks to celebrate the occasion, so should we to do a five-minute walk to the rank, dressed in all our finery, or phone for a taxi to come to the chapel? One of the other guests, a woman of about mid-40, must have heard our exchanges, and insisted on giving us a lift.
“No need to waste your money,” she said, “I’m going there anyways. Come on, you two, Let’s go.”
So common sense and her forthright instruction saw us walking with her to her car.
“Cynthia, family friend,” she announced as we walked by her side. “We can talk more when we get underway.”
The footpath narrowed, and I let the two ladies get a couple of strides ahead so I could study our impromptu chauffeur. She was quite tall and robust, certainly not fat, and cut an almost manly figure. Maybe a horse trainer or dance tutor, I surmised. She had spoken with an accent which had hints of a lisp, which I found quite exotic and endearing. She needs help with her fashion sense though, I rather unkindly thought. Her two-piece tweed number was way out of style. Her attire accentuated the contrast between the two women, with Shelly wearing a white, frilly, lacy, ¾ length one-piece dress. The top of Shelly’s head, with it’s long blonde flowing locks, was level with Cynthia’s ears, which weren’t covered by her cropped dark brown hair.
“I’m sorry about all the clutter,” she says with her apologetic mild lisp when we reached her battered old Land-Rover which looked well and truly past it’s prime., “but it’ll have to be one in front and one in back.”
Shelly and I looked at each other. I shrugged my shoulders. She shrugged me back.
“I’ll get in back,” I said, having noted that the various odds and ends piled in the back and spilling onto the back seat looked a bit precarious. An empty bird-cage. A couple of dirty open-top wooden boxes. Some gardening implements. Other bits of stuff. Cynthia quickly heaped it onto one half of the back seat, and I slid in beside. Then she held the front door open for Shelly to clamber in front. Very courteous, I thought. What did seem odd was, she stood holding the door open and looking down at Shelly for several seconds, even after she’d wriggled around to make herself comfy and buckled herself into the belt.
“What a lovely dress”, she said as she stood slightly stooped with her face in our view, and with her eyes wandering all over Shelly. “I love the lace bows and frilly pleats and all. What a pretty sight you make.”
Ah, that’s what it’s about, I thought to myself. Women and their clothes, eh!
But after she’d stood upright and was closing the door, she added a simple strange sentence, “I hope it’s not too hard to get off.”
..…….
The small-talk on the way to the reception started off being unremarkable but developed into an innuendo-rich joust. I’ll relate as accurately as I can remember how it went :-
Cynthia owned and ran a garden design and landscaping business with a staff of about 25. She had some quite prestigious contracts, and confessed to being very ‘hands-on’, which I realised would explain her sturdy, almost athletic physique.
I told her I was a colleague of the groom at an accountancy firm, and Shelly has been my girlfriend for 6 months. Shelly told her she was in-between jobs just now but was usually a sales assistant in fashion shops. Cynthia took great interest in this revelation and asked if she could seek her advice at some time in the future. Shelly, being the kind-hearted person that she is, said she’d be happy to help in any way she could. Cynthia had already made several comments on how much she liked Shelly’s dress, and how it resembled the brides wedding dress. She said it was a shame they weren’t the same build, because she would have loved to have tried it on.
“Oh, I can’t take my eyes off it,” she said. “See if you can find one in my size. Just looking at you makes me so covetous. I really want to get into that dress.”
I was unsure how to take the way the conversation was starting to go, especially when her next words were, “What do you think, Graham? You know your girlfriend. Do you think she’ll really help me to get into that dress?”
That damn phrase again. I decided to test her at her own game.
“Shelly is good with clothes. If you wanted to get out of yours and into something else, I’m sure she’d be very obliging.”
At that remark, Cynthia moved her head, and we made eye contact through the rear-view mirror. I don’t know who was teasing who now. Shelly seemed completely oblivious to the connection we’d just made, and the subtle innuendo which was slowly bubbling to the surface.
“Obliging. I like that word,” Cynthia breathed. “So much less stressful than having to fight for what you want. I’ve sometimes had to fight hard for what I want, but I almost always get my way. What about you, Shelly, are you a go-getter sales-woman? Do you have much fight in you?”
I could see poor Shelly didn’t to know what to make of this brash, straight-talking woman sat by her side. It was obvious to me she was quite assertive, and had no doubt done some hard-nosed negotiations to win landscaping contracts. I’d been dealing with accountancy clients long enough to recognise a tough cookie when I met one. After what seemed like a full minute, all the while Cynthia throwing glances her way, Shelly eventually spoke.
“I like to think so.”
“Mmmm,” hummed Cynthia, as if unconvinced by her words, which had certainly lacked conviction.
“And what about you, Graham? Do you cut a hard bargain?”
“No, not at all,” I lied, enjoying the jousting, “I’m as meek as they come.” Then when I bit the bullet and added a deliberate provocation, “I always do what I’m told,” I felt a stir in my loins.
“I should jolly-well hope so. There are too many men in this world who think they know it all,” she lectured, “strong women should be in charge, that’s what I say. What do you think, Shelly? Would you vote for strong willed women to take up the reins? Call the shots? I bet Graham would love to have a forceful woman in charge to make him do what he’s told.”
At this remark, and as I sat transfixed waiting for Shelly’s answer, I felt another inappropriate stir.
“I suppose so,” she mused, without much passion, not really buying into the cause.
“Oh, come on Shelly,” I urged, wanting to prise out her thoughts, “you can see Cynthia is a take-charge kinda lady. Wouldn’t you like to have her and others like her take the lead? It would be great to see women in charge of everything for a change.”
Cynthia answered first. “It wouldn’t be for a change, though, Graham. It would be for all time. No turning back. Once women were able to lay down the law, we’d change it so that men wouldn’t have a say ever again.”
“But isn’t there an old-adage which says absolute power corrupts absolutely? Wouldn’t that be a danger?” I posed to Cynthia, intrigued to hear her answer.
“Corruption comes in many forms, as well you know, Graham. But it’s possible to put checks and balances in place. If anybody starts coming under the spell of corruption, there should be some type of special course available, so they can cleanse themselves of temptation. Maybe some eversion therapy. Like when a child is caught smoking, and you make it chain-smoke a whole pack until they feel sick. The same principle could be applied to people coming under the spell of corruption, be it man or woman. They’d be subjected to a course of intense corruption for a few days. What do you think to that?”
“Sounds like a fine idea. Intense, inescapable corruption therapy. A fair and just punishment indeed. What do you think, Shelly.” I asked, trying to unearth her thoughts on such a random concept.
“I don’t like the sound of punishment,” she said. “What if some-one was wrongly convicted? They’d get punished for something they may not have done. Shouldn’t they be just locked up?”
“Fair point,” conceded Cynthia. “Have them locked up. But it be would be a large comfortable cell for women and a small, restricting cage for men. How would you feel about being confined in a small cage for a while, Graham? Would that make you nervous?”
“Not if it was for my own good,” I said through my rapidly drying mouth. This was getting interesting. “Maybe if I was locked up, I’d be a better person after I’m let out. What would you do if I was locked up for a while, Shell? Would you miss me?”
“What on earth would you ever get locked up for?” Shelly asked, seemingly not having read the subtle dark undertones of where the conversation was going.
“Bad thoughts,” I answered, quick as a flash. I was already having bad thoughts.
“And we are talking about a society run by women,” Cynthia pointed out. “Hens have been kept in cages for their eggs for decades. Maybe it’s time the shoe was on the other foot.”
“What, like male hens being kept in cages you mean?” I said as innocently as I could, having realised where our converse was heading.
“Yes, I’d like to see all male hens kept in cages,” said Cynthia, cementing the theme in this risque direction. “And if you think you would be a better person for it, you ought to be first on the list. In fact, what would you say if I told it’s going to happen, and that I’m going to make you lock your male hen in a cage?”
There was certainly more than a stir in my loins now. I had to shuffle and reset my seating.
Shelly spoke. “What’s with you guys and male hen’s, They’re ….. Oh, wait a minute. I get it. You’re just having fun, aren’t you. Silly me.”
Finally, I thought. Although Shelly is a natural ash-blonde, anyone who knows her would never accuse her of being dumb. But I was surprised she’d missed the subtle thread which Cynthia and I had been weaving. It was certainly having an effect on me.
“Sorry, Shell, yeah, we were just joking around. I thought you knew.” I said apologetically.
Cynthia reached over and put her hand on the dress which covered Shelly’s thigh.
“You shouldn’t let him get away with teasing you like that. If it were up to me, I’d punish him for it. I’ve got a bird-cage in the back, look. Maybe we should try squash him into that.”
“Maybe we should,” joked Shelly, now getting into the flow.
“I wouldn’t fit, so there!” I countered back.
“Don’t be so smug, Graham,” Cynthia said more sternly than befitted our jesting. “Fact is, I do have a cage which would suit you just nicely. I think you could be persuaded to lock yourself in and hand over the key. It’d certainly keep you out of mischief while us women go about our business.” I saw her hand give Shelly’s thigh a squeeze before it returned to the wheel.
“See, you’d better behave,” said Shelly, not realising this woman could actually be full-on serious.
“Yes, Ma’am one and Ma’am two,” I said, continuing the joke, but knowing it may not all be in jest.
“Lucky for you we’re here,” said Cynthia as she applied the brakes, started to turn, and drove though the reception-hall car-park entrance. I was surprised to see her drive straight up to the main door and stop in the guest drop-off zone. After she pulled on the handbrake she turned to me with a big smile, “That’ll be fifty bucks please,” she said, in her gorgeous exotic lisp.
“But I …” I started, and she burst out laughing. “Just joking about the cash,” she said, then wheezed in a low breathy voice, “But there may be a price to pay later.” Then she spun around to again face the front and gave the instruction, “OK, you two, out you get. I hope you enjoy the party.”
As Shelly and I were walking towards the grand main entrance, Cynthia drove off, but didn’t go and park with all the other cars. The old, beat-up Land-Rover disappeared down a side alley as if she was going around the back. Our verbal jousting had shown she was as sharp as a tack, so I supposed she knew what she was doing.
…………….
The reception hall was more like a modern convention centre and was very majestic and imposing. A uniformed usher indicated the entrance to the main hall, which was impressively decorated with all the trappings of a wedding celebration you’d expect from a highly paid accountant. There were 12 large round tables, all with 10 seats around, and a wide dance area off to one side. As soon as we walked through the door, Shelly and I wandered around and found our seating allocation cards and checked who else would be at our table. They were all my work colleagues and their partners, so maybe that would be the last we saw of Cynthia.
I wasn’t sure whether I was disappointed or relieved.
………..
There were speeches, we dined, table small-talk, more speeches, toasts, deserts, speeches, then drinking, mingling and dancing. I glanced around several times for Cynthia but didn’t see her once. Finally, curiosity got the better of me. Whilst Shelly was off dancing with some other guy and I was chatting to Margot, the bride’s mother, I hinted for an answer.
“Oh, our dear Cynth,’ she acknowledged. “She’ll probably be in her apartment upstairs”.
“There’s an upstairs? … and apartments?” I asked with naïve astonishment.
“Yeah, there’s an upstairs, with her apartment and other rooms. She owns the place and lives here, didn’t you know? … To be honest,” she continued in a hushed tone, “I think that’s why she’s not down here, you know, not wanting to steal any limelight from the happy couple. She’s a family friend and this one’s a freebie, so I suppose she didn’t want her generosity to be in their face.”
“Oh!” I exhaled, still in astonishment. “Oh well”, I then sighed, “She graciously gave my girlfriend and I a lift, and I was going to treat her to a fancy cocktail as a thank-you.”
( All the beers and wine were free )
“I can understand you wanting to repay the favour, but she owns just about everything in here, including all the drinks behind the bar. If you want to thank her, though, I can give her a call and ask her to come down.”
“I don’t want to disturb her or anything. Best leave her as she is,” I hastily replied, suddenly nervous about this new information. It made the prospect of any more salacious verbal jousting, or indeed, where it may lead, a bit too intense for comfort.
“You know what, I think she should be down here and not hiding away. I’ll call her.”
With that, Margot went to her purse on her table. I anxiously followed, trying to think of a way to maybe try talk her out of calling, but as I faltered, uttering an ineffective “ermm”, she was dialling a ‘phone in her hand.
“Hi, Cynth, Margot here. I have a delightful young man in front of me who insists you come down and join us. He says you gave him a lift, and he is anxious to see you again.”
Having realised the tenor of this unnerving statement, I started waving my hands like wind-screen wipers, in a sign of ‘no, oh dear god, don’t put it in those words, oh please no, no, no!’
“Yes, he’s the one… (pause). Yes, anxious, that’s exactly the word he used”, she smilingly continued as she looked me straight in the eye, and in complete disregard of my frantic signals. “He seems quite adamant, and definitely wants to see you. In fact, he is waving his hands around, urging you to hurry up… (pause), Yes, he is cute, isn’t he? I’ll tell him you’re on your way.”
I don’t know if my face glowed bright red at this point, but it certainly felt like it was on fire.
“She said about 20 minutes,” Margot informed me. “She said she needs to change first.”
“Thank you,” I said back, with a knot in my stomach which was hurting so much, it almost caused me to bend double.
…….
About 25 minutes later, one of the side doors opened, and there seemed to be a palpable ripple of awe reverberate around the room. Cynthia was the epitome of stunning sensuality. Her short dark brown hair had been teased into spikes, which topped off her face in full-on black-shadow goth make-up. She wore a tight, red, low-cut, shoulder-strap top which showcased an ample and voluptuous cleavage and exposed most of the skin on her back. Her red sequined mini-skirt was adorned with tassels, and shimmied and shone as she moved. Her shiny black nylons seemed to go on for miles, as they sprouted from wedge-soled red dance shoes. She looked like she should be on stage at a Madonna concert, and the only word I could think was “Wow”.
She looked around the room, and nodded a greeting to several specific people, although thankfully not to me and my hidden dark thoughts, before she sauntered around the outskirts of the room towards the bar. A random muse recalled the fact that not more than two hours ago, the hand of this sensuous creature had been squeezing the thigh of my girlfriend, and the memory caused an unwholesome stir.
As I was trying to seem composed, having curtailed my lascivious lusting to just a few fleeting glances, Shelly appeared at my side.
“Is that Cynthia?” she exclaimed in almost disbelief, addressing me, but blatantly staring at the racy and raunchy vision which seemed to have attracted every eye in the room.
“She looks different, doesn’t she?” I remarked in what was probably the understatement of the year.
“You should go and thank her for giving us a lift,” said Shelly, quite flatly.
“You go thank her,” I said, knowing I’d probably be unable speak a straight sentence.
“No, you go.”
“You.”
“You”.
Shelly finally broke the stalemate. “OK, I’ll go, but don’t blame me if I don’t come back.”
Why her comment should cause a sharp twinge in my loins, I don’t know. But it did.
………..
From a safe distance, I intently observed the two women as they chatted at the bar, and at their occasional glances and nods in my direction. Perhaps I should have gone over in the first place, but despite my job requiring me to meet and converse with a wide range of people, this was a whole different ball game.
During our conversation in her car, Cynthia had stated in thinly veiled terms that if she had her way, all men would be fitted with a cock-cage. And there was no doubt in my mind I wouldn’t be able to resist this woman if that were her intention towards me. I’m sure she’d have no hesitation in ensuring my encasement whilst, as she put it, ‘us women went about our business.’ But was ‘us women’ a generic statement, or had she specific designs on Shelly? And “our business” didn’t bear thinking about. As I was waiting for their long and nerve-jangling meeting to end, I plucked a large glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter.
Eventually Shelly came sauntering back alone in my direction.
“She wants to fuck me,” she craned up and breathed into my ear when she had reached my side.
“Excuse me?” I gulped, absolute stunned, not only at the unexpected blunt pronouncement, but at Shelly’s uncharacteristically crass and crude wording.
“She said she wants me in her apartment later, so she can fuck me.”
I stared at her blankly for a few seconds as her words sank in. I took another big gulp of dry air.
“And you want this?” I finally asked, having not really digested the implications of what I’d heard.
“Come with me, cucky-boy,” was her response, in a firm stern order, “I want to show you something.”
I was shocked and confounded that she’d called me such a name, but when she led, I silently followed. We walked through a side door, down a corridor, and with Shelly seemingly counting the doors, we went into a small room halfway down. She closed the door behind us when we’d entered, and then to my complete surprise, she pushed me several times in the chest. She kept on pushing, causing me to stumble backwards, until she’d manoeuvered me up against the wall. With her body pressing firmly up against mine, she stood up on tip-toe and seductively breathed in my ear. “OK, listen up, cucky-boy. Later this evening, I’m going up to Cynthia’s apartment, where she’s going to take my clothes off. Then I’m going to take her clothes off. Then when we’ve both stripped each other naked, we will go to her bed, and I’m going to go down on her. Just to make it clear, when we are both naked and she’s spread her legs, my tongue is going to reach out from between my lips and it’s going to pleasure her sex. Then after a while we’re going to trade places, and she’s going to return the favour. And I can’t wait. I’ve seen her tongue, Graham. It's why she has a lisp, and she's showed it to me. It’s nearly six inches long and is tapered and strong like a big lizard’s tail, and I can’t wait ‘til I feel it inside me. She said when it’s made me all sloppy and wet, it’s going to snake all the way in to my g-spot. Then she’s going to work me and use me until she’s made me cum with her tongue. And after I do, and I’m at her full mercy, we are going to 69 while she straight-out tongue-fucks me. Hear that Graham? We are going to do a 69 with her on top so she can hold me down and fuck me with her long, thick, probing tongue. Fuck me for quite a while, apparently. At least an hour. Maybe longer. She said she’ll keep fucking me until she decides we’ve both cum enough for one session.”
“Oh!” was about as much as I could muster. But in the brief pause as I consider my options, Shelly’s hand went down to my crotch. She gently squeezed me through the fine-weave thin fabric. She squeezed my rock-hard erection.
“I thought so,” she crowed in triumph. “Cynthia said you were weak. I didn’t believe her at first. I thought she was just being crazy. But she said she’d learned more about you in 20 minutes than I’ve done in six months. She persuaded me to perform this little test to prove it for myself. You are weak, aren’t you, Graham? A weak wimp cucky-boy. Just look at you. You’re all aroused at the thought of a forceful dyke bitch seducing and screwing your girlfriend. And I bet you’d like to watch, eh, cucky-boy?”
“No, it’s ,,,, I.. “ I stammered like a buffoon whilst she kept squeezing my cock, which showed no signs of deflating.
“Well, if you must know, we’ve already decided what we’re going to do if you fail this test, which you pathetically just have. In about half an hour, after the watershed, when all the kids have gone home, I’m going to dance with Cynthia. We are going to bop and jive and boogie... But then a couple of slow numbers will come on, which she’s arranging as we speak. You are going to sit and watch as we virtually make out on the dance-floor. She said our mission is to try engorge every cock in the room, and give the guests a wedding to remember. What do you think to that, cucky-boy?”
I’d never seen this side of Shelly before. A side I didn’t know existed.
I was terrified, overwhelmed, disturbed and confused.
But most of all, I was more aroused that I could ever remember. My cock was throbbing and straining in Shelly’s firm grasp, and I thought it was going to burst.
At my lack of immediate response, and as Shelly kept her grip on my erection, she spoke, “You asked me if I wanted this, but is seems it’s you who wants this, eh, Graham?” as she gave my cock an extra sharp squeeze. When I didn’t speak, because I simply didn’t have the words, Shelly answered her own question for me. “I guess that’s an OK, then. Come on, cucky-boy. It’s time to get this show on the road.”
………….
When we returned to the main hall to re-join the party, Shelly pointed at a chair and barked, “Sit and stay, puppy dog.” I was so stunned by recent events, I did.
Again, the two ladies met up at the bar and recommenced their deep conversation. And just like before they would occasionally nod and glance in my direction, but this time around, Cynthia’s hand was massaging the nape of Shelly’s neck. At one point, when their noses were almost touching, and their heads appeared to sway, I thought they were going to kiss. But totally unexpectedly, Cynthia’s freakish long tongue spilled out, and mimicking the sweep of a slithering snake’s waving head, it licked the full width of my girlfriend’s top lip. I shuddered, like I was being electrocuted, and just as I realised I was taking raspy rapid breaths, a hand slapped me hard on the shoulder.
“How’s it hanging, Grey?” breezed one of the senior directors of my company.
“Oh, OK I guess,” I answered, still half hypnotised by the bizarre vision I’d just witnessed.
“You OK, son? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost”, he added with concern at my foggy answer.
“I’m just keeping an eye on my girlfriend. She seems to have acquired a new friend and I think they may be having way too much to drink,” I said, with probably more honesty than I should, as I nodded towards where the two women stood talking at the bar, knowing he had never met my girlfriend.
“If that’s her stood talking to Cynthia, I’d go rescue her if I were you, son. She eats young women like yours for breakfast, if you know what I mean. She’ll offer her a job, then pay her so much money she won’t want to leave, despite the outrageous tasks she’ll have heaped on her. They are probably hatching some dastardly plot even as we speak. I’ve seen it all before, son. Trust me, get her out of there.” With that, he patted me on the shoulder and wandered off.
As I remained seated, reflecting his words and summoning courage to go intervene, every-one’s activities were halted by a loud bugle-call.
“Attention! Attention all children and not-so-children under 18. It is now officially your bed-time. All those who leave in the next five minutes are allowed to take one of the huge lolly and treat bags from the big bucket at the front door”.
The ensuing flurry of activity caused me to lose focus, and when I next looked back at the bar, the two women were gone.
My heart sank.
……………………….
Several minutes passed as I drank down yet another large glass of wine I’d hijacked from a passing waiter. Then, to my deep relief, the two ladies emerged from a side door. Cynthia went to the bar and Shelly came over to me. “Reach out your hand and show me your palm,” she ordered.
I complied, and she positioned her clenched fist over my open flat hand. When her fingers unfurled, a small piece of orange silk fabric dropped into my care.
“That’s my g-string,” she announced. “Cynthia said it needed to come off before our dance. I said I didn’t want to. I said I’d be too embarrassed to dance in front of all these people if I was naked under my dress. I pleaded with her to let me keep it on, but she said that technically speaking it wouldn’t be my dancing that these folks would find entertaining. I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but she assured me it would be OK to be naked if I wanted to entertain properly. She’s a very insistent woman, Graham, you know that. So when she got down on her knees and slid her hands up my thighs, I didn’t stop her. She grabbed the waistband of my G and pulled it all the way down whilst we were stood in the ladies’ restroom. Cynthia was kneeling at my feet, and I had my g-string around my ankles. What was I supposed to do, Graham? Well, I lifted my feet one at a time and let her take my g-string clean off. She wanted to take my bra off too, but that would mean I’d have to remove my dress up over my head, so we didn’t do that. But feeling her hands slide up my legs and pull down my G has made me soooo horny. I’m naked and juicy now, Graham. Wanna see?”
With that, she bent down as if to take hold of the hem.
“No!” I barked, almost as a yell, desperate for her hands not to grasp hold. My glances shot in all directions to see if anyone was in earshot. “No, I believe you,” I said more calmly.
I did believe her.
“Anyway, I’ve time for one more drink before I start dancing,” she said, and sauntered off to re-join Cynthia at the bar.
……
Several minutes later, during which time I’d commandeered and drank yet another large wine, “Cotton-eye Joe” and it’s buzzing violin started pumping out from the DJ’s speakers, causing many of the assembled party to jump up onto their feet. Dozens of bodies commenced to jive, bop and boogie, including my two ladies. I remained in my seat like I’d been told and watched everyone jig about like they were crazy. More fast tunes followed, and the dance crowd thinned, as some began to run out of steam. But the two ladies kept up, twirling and bopping, and otherwise jumping about. Then, just as predicted, a slow smooch came on, which caused almost everyone to sit down for a breather. But not the two ladies, as they clinched in a tight hugging embrace. With their hips locked together, slowly they swayed, with sleepy, mesmeric gyrations. Their contrasting dress colours of bright red and white, their hair styles of brown spikes and long blonde locks, and their distinctly different heights, added to the erotic fascination. As I was watching, as were many others, their hands found each-others hind quarters. And when these hands started a blatant mutual massage, their hips seemed to gyrate even more slowly. It was then that Cynthia’s hands started working, gently clawing at the lacy frills she’d so erotically been massaging. Inch by inch she gathered up the folds, and more and more of the back of Shelly’s legs came into view. Shelly must have realised what was happening and began squirming to get out of the grasp. Cynthia let go and eased Shelly around so her back was nestled into Cynthia’s front and where she held her in a bear-hug, spooning embrace. Cynthia then started thrusting her pelvis, causing my girlfriend to push back in synchronisation, and they swayed like a hypnotic wave. This continued for a couple of minutes until Cynthia suddenly bent her knees and stooped down and grabbed the hem at the front of Shelly’s dress. Then she stood upright, and with the hem still in her grasp, she lifted her arms up and over in a high arc. In one fell swoop she’d pulled this front hem all the way over Shelly and down behind the back of her head. Shelly was now encased inside her own frilly dress, and her whole naked front from the bottom of her bra to the top of her shoes was exposed for all to see. With the frilly dress still in this position, and Shelly’s body fully on display, Cynthia’s arms again grabbed around the front like a bear hug. With the fingers of each hand locked together like a buckle, Cynthia leaned back slightly, effectively lifting Shelly’s feet off the ground. Then she started to spin. Both bodies started to twirl around, faster and faster, like a whirligig, and Shelly started to scream. But this spinning caused Shelly’s legs to lift and splay, so every once around in my direction I could see what I’d seen many times before. And now, everyone else in the room was also getting to see the same glory, and some were visibly drooling at the sight. Shelly’s smooth-shaven sex had peeled lewdly open and clearly glistened with wetness in the phosphorescent bright lighting. Around and around they span, maybe 40 times, before the spectacle came to an end. When it did, Cynthia let go of her charge and staggered slightly backwards, clearly still dizzy and unsteady on her feet. But Shelly, still blinded by her upturned dress, staggered around in a circle a couple of more times, then fell on her back in a heap on the floor, still with all on display. Several women rushed in to help her to her feet, but several of the men started applauding. I remained in my seat, flushed red with humiliation. I couldn’t possibly run in to assist. Not with my bursting erection tenting large in the front of my trousers.
A couple of the women who had gone to Shelly’s rescue had smoothed down her dress, took one of her arms each, and escorted her out through one of the side doors.
Margot came over. “They’ve taken her upstairs to settle her down. She’ll be OK. We’ll bring her back down in a while.”
“OK”, was about all I could manage. What else could I say?
……
“Quite a show, eh, son?” said the same company director from before when he came to stand at my side. “I warned ya, and don’t say I didn’t. She’s a tyrant, no mistake.”
“What do you suggest I do, sir?” I asked, desperate for some fatherly advice.
“I’ll let you into a secret, son. I’m probably the only person in this room with some clout over Cynth. A few years ago we, err, how shall I put it, were very, very close, before we both turned away to do different things. We still help each other out on occasion, but if you breath a word of that to anyone I’ll break your neck, understand?”
“Yes sir,” I murmured, fully knowing he was a very wealthy senior partner in my company.
“I’ll go have a talk to her,” he continued, “see if I can work out what she was thinking.”
“Yes sir,” I repeated, glad that someone may be able to assume some kind of normality.
……..
The director came back.
“I’ve been upstairs and had a quiet word. Cynthia has explained the situation and said it must have been the alcohol. She sends her apologies and swears she’ll make it up to you. Cynthia is in her own apartment, and probably won’t be down again this evening. Your girlfriend is in one of the other rooms and being looked after by some of the ladies. Its best if you wait down here, and I’ll go check again shortly to make sure everything’s going fine.”
“OK, thank you sir,” was all I could say. I’d have to wait and see what happens.
………
Having realised it may be a while before Shelly came back, I decided I could use a stiff drink to steady my nerves, so I went to the bar and ordered a large whisky.
“Quite a show we had there,” said the barman, in almost an echo of my director’s words.
“It must have been the drink,’ I offered, neither wanting to state the fact it was my girlfriend who had put on the show or that I’d received Cynthia’s personal apology.
“I don’t see how,” answered the barman, “they’ve both been drinking lime and lemon on ice.”
“They weren’t drunk?” I probed, unnerved at the implications of his words.
The barman looked to either side as an indication he was the only one serving, and as if his statement was being called into question, “Look, I should know, pal. See anyone else here serving drinks? They’ve been having lime and lemon on ice.”
“Oh yeah! Sorry,” I said as I slung a twenty on the bar and walked away. The disturbing information had been priceless.
…………
As I sat on my own at a table, sipping my whisky and considering my options, Margot dragged a chair across and sat down at my side.
“Good news and bad news, I’m afraid. Shelly is still a bit unwell, so she’s decided to stay upstairs a while longer. Cynthia feels really upset at what happened, so she’s got Shelly resting in her apartment. It’s much more comfortable than the other bedrooms, which are a bit basic. Cynthia has said to specifically tell you not to worry and that she’s going to take real good care of your girlfriend. There are a couple of other women with her too, so she won’t be short of attention.”
“Oh, but what about…” I started to question. There were many questions rattling around in my head.
“Don’t worry. You stay down here and enjoy yourself. Your girlfriend is in excellent hands. As I said, a few of Cynthia’s female workers who also live here are in with her too to make sure she’s being well and truly taken care of. I’m sure she’ll be returned as soon as they’ve all finished.”
Completely undermined by her specific choice of words, again I started, “But….”
Margot held a pointed-up first finger in front of my face, like she was halting the flow of a complaining child, and a gesture which also brought me into silence.
“When they’ve finished…” she repeated, “so you’re going to stay down here, relax and enjoy yourself, yes?”
It was then I realised there were two big guys I’d never seen before standing at either side of me. It was now blatantly obvious I’d been out-manoeuvered and was out of my league, so I silently nodded “OK”.
“Good boy,” she purred, sealing the checkmate. Their conspiracy had me just where they wanted.
………………….
One of the big guys sat down by my side on the chair which Margot vacated, whilst the other leaned over and placed a brown paper bag on the table.
“A present for ya, courtesy of Miss C,” he growled in a deep raspy voice which sounded like a Chicago gangster I’d once seen in a movie.
I hesitated, mostly out of fear at doing the wrong thing and annoying these two goons, but when he slid the bag a few inches closer, I pulled at its top edge and peered inside. Its contents were clearly a white lacy bra.
“Belongs to some skinny blonde bimbo they’ve got upstairs. Seems she won’t be needing it no more tonight.”
I took a deep gulp of dry air. I was almost certain the bra belonged to Shelly. I also knew that if it did, it couldn’t have been removed unless her dress had been completely removed first.
“Is she OK?” was the first thing I was desperate to ask.
“Search me,” said the gravelly voiced goon. “Hard to tell with all that ruckus going on.”
“Ruckus?” I exclaimed in a panic. “What ruckus?”
“Oh, all the caterwauling and jeering and screaming and such. You know what it’s like when you have a room full of women all baying and carrying on.”
“Screaming and baying?” I almost yelled.
“Yeah, you should’ve heard ‘em. They were like a load of wildcats ripping into a mouse. When those dykes get a craze on, there’s no stopping ‘em. I was glad to get out of there.”
“Only ‘cos most of ‘em could whoop your ass, eh, Tone?”
“Oh, very funny I’m sure,” replied the gorilla sized goon who appeared to be called Tone.
“Well, it’s true. I don’t know where Miss C finds ‘em. They all look like Russian weight-lifters to me.”
“It’s from all that back-breaking landscaping work they do. I’d like to see you push a wheelbarrow full of rocks around all day. Bloody amazon dykes”
“Yeah, OK, OK. Anyways, what are we gonna do with this young fella here. We gotta keep him busy,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder a few times. “Wanna drink?”
“I’d like to go see Shelly,” I said, with all the courage I could muster.
“So that’s the name of the blonde bimbo upstairs having the time of her life?”
“She’s my girlfriend, and they took her upstairs, yes, and I’d like to go see her.” I said.
“Oh, they took her, alright. Still taking her last time I saw. But it’s like this, sport. Every now and again, Miss C gives her workers a treat. And tonight, she’s told her crew it’s something special. She told ‘em that your girlfriend is the bride, and they believed her, with that white frilly dress and all. Miss C told ‘em they have first dibs, and to break her in before she goes off to her wedding night with her new groom. That got ‘em all fired up, I can tell ya. So now would not be a good time to intervene, savvy?”
“But….” I started, even though I knew it was a lost cause.
“You do have a chance, though,” interrupted one of the goons, “but you’re not gonna like it.”
“What?” I exclaimed, my hopes soaring at hearing the word ‘chance’.
One of the goons fished around in his pocket, and then dropped on the table what was obviously, although I’d never seen one in real life, the shiny chrome loops and coils of a cock cage.
“If you put this on and lock it up tight and hand me the key, then Miss C said you could go pay them a visit.”
“What? When? Now?” I blurted all in a rush. These goons had thrown me a life-line.
“Yeah. Go in the restroom and click it on properly, and we could whisk you up there straight away. But if it’s not nice and tight and not locked on secure, you’re gonna have Tone and me to deal with.” He then punched the top of the table with his huge ham-hock fist which caused a loud bang, and made several people look in our direction. His physical burst of aggression made me flinch and hesitate for a couple of seconds, but when he growled, “Go on then”, I scooped up the small shiny contraption and its key and almost ran across to the men’s rest-room.
I shut myself into the stall furthest away from the door. Like I said, I’d never ever seen one in real life, and it was much smaller than I envisioned. But after a few minutes of perseverance and a certain amount of pinching and squeezing, I eventually had my cock and balls inside the shiny chrome prison. I pulled all my clothes back into place and walked slowly and awkwardly back out to the two awaiting goons.
“All done?” asked the one called Tone.
I nodded my head yes.
“Key,” he demanded as he held out his hand, and my trembling fingers lowered it and it’s fine-link silver chain into his palm. He pulled out a small, flip-lid box which looked like an engagement ring case. I watched in morbid fascination as he calmly lodged the key into its satin lined, custom-cut slot and wound the chain around the raised holder, then flinched as he sprung the lid shut with a loud snap. My flinch was not just from the sharp sound, but also from the realisation the small box now contained the fate of my precious genitalia, and I’d just handed it over to a stranger.
“Off we go then,” he gruffed, and started walking towards a side door exit from the ball-room.
….
Like a prisoner being escorted by two guards, we eventually found ourselves outside a door which I presumed to be an upstairs bedroom.
“It’s quite simple, sport,” said Tone in his deep gravelly voice. “Go in there, strip naked and lay your clothes on the bed, then put on the silk robe which is hanging on the wall. And I’d use the loo if I were you. There may not be another chance for a while.”
I stood motionless for a couple of seconds as I took in the implications of his words.
“Go on then. We’ll be outside waiting. We’re not gonna come in and watch ya.”
….
The room was a basic double bed-room with a few sticks of furniture and an en-suite. After I’d nervously looked around for hidden cameras, I took the advice of going for a pee. It was one of the weirdest sensations I’d ever had in my life. Taking a leek when you’re severely hampered by the tight restrictions of a cock-cage is not the most thrilling experience one is likely to encounter, but I figured I’d been given sound advice to go now instead of maybe at an inconvenient time later. Having removed all my clothes, I looked around for the robe I’d been told would be hanging up for me to wear, but I couldn’t see one anywhere. I opened the door to the fitted wardrobe, and there it was. One solitary item hanging in the centre. A pink, almost sheer silk, three-quarter length split front nighty with a thin waist-belt threaded through loops. I thought, you’ve got to be kidding me. But realising there seemed no option if I were to be allowed to go see Shelly, I flushed red as I put the damn thing on. I opened the door a snick, and the two goons were stood either side waiting.
“Let’s have a look before you come out,” gravelled Tone.
“What do you mean?” I asked, mortified at the depths of indignity he was asking me to sink.
“Open the door wide and give us a flash. You conning us is more than our jobs are worth.”
With my heart in my boots, I pulled the door wide and unfastened the knot I’d only just tied. Then holding my breath, I peeled the front of the silk robe to two halves to expose my demeaning confinement.
“Good job, sport,” he said to my surprise and relief. At least he hadn’t keeled over with laughter. “Tie it back up. I don’t want that image tattooed on my brain.
When I’d re-tied myself back inside the robe, the goons started walking away down the corridor. “Come on, Pinky,” Tone called over his shoulder, “Don’t want to keep the ladies waiting.”
It was then that the reality of the situation started to sink in. As far as I knew, I was about to enter a room full of frenzied amazon dykes whilst imprisoned in a cock-cage and wearing a pink silk nighty which only came half way down my thighs.
Tone knocked on an impressive looking high-set oak door.
“Come”, sang a female voice from within.
The door appeared to click open by itself, and Tone’s gentle push swung it wide.
I nearly collapsed at the scene inside, not really having known what to expect.
The room was huge and decked out in style with elegant and exquisite fine furniture.
And sitting pride of place in front of an almost cinema-sized plasma TV which was silently screening some kind of women’s basket-ball match were Cynthia and Shelly, both sitting in plush deep single seat recliners. Shelly was still wearing her frilly white dress, but Cynthia was now in a baggy, cream-colored silk one-piece pyjama suit which reminded me of a Turkish hareem.
“Got a present for ‘ya, Miss C. Confined and dressed as requested,” he announced as he placed the key-box into Cynthia’s outstretched and open flat palm.
“Thank you Tony, Callum. Excellent job as always. I think we can take it from here.”
“Our pleasure, Miss C. You only have to buzz if you need us.”
And with this, the two goons filed out of the room.
“Are you OK Sh…..” I started to say, but Cynthia cut me clean off.
“There’ll be plenty of time for pleasantries later. But first, let’s have a look at you. Whadya think, Shell? Shall we ask him to give us a twirl like we gave for him?”
“Absolutely. Go on Graham. Forty times around as fast as you can.”
“But….” I started, knowing it was futile.
“Forty times. Off you go,” Cynthia affirmed, and both the ladies started giggling.
I stood stock still for a long moment, still confused at the whole situation. I had half expected to find Shelly naked on a huge bed surrounded by a clamouring horde of rapine amazon bitches. But here instead were just the three of us, which it a way made the intimacy of the situation seem much more intimidating.
“Go on then, chop-chop”, urged Cynthia with two loud claps of her hands before drawing a few circles in the air with her pointing down finger.
Reluctantly…. Very reluctantly….. I slowly started to twirl.
“Faster, faster,” they started to chant in unison, and I cautiously picked up the pace.
“Faster, faster,” they continued to urge, with an insistence which made me comply.
None of us were counting, but after what seemed like a full minute of twirling at breakneck speed, the inevitable happened as alcohol enhanced dizziness took over and I went sprawling, spinning face down into the thick pile of the plush carpet.
The two ladies were in hysterics, and I remained splayed out on the floor with my head still swimming so much I daren’t even attempt to stand up.
“Brilliant,” squawked Shelly as her laughter died down. “You said you’d get him to do it.”
“I told you, I can make him do what I want,” replied Cynthia, in between her gasping for breath after her bout of unrestrained laughter.”
I looked back at them over my shoulder as I still lay prostrate on the carpet, unnerved that Cynthia had used those words.
“Come on, give me a hand. Lets get the poor man to his feet,” instructed Cynthia, and they both came over and took hold of one arm apiece.
“That’s right, up you get. Come sit and rest in this chair.”
I allowed myself to be guided backwards, as they reversed me to a big soft recliner. But as I plonked down into a seated position, it was immediately clear this was no ordinary chair. The centre gave way like it just wasn’t there, like I’d sat myself down into a truck tyre. I sank right in and was essentially jammed as my knees came up to my chest. From behind I felt a firm hand push down on my head as two curved spars swung over, one on the top of each shoulder. Then the two ladies, one at each side, wrapped two broad padded bands around my arms, their constraint sealed by the scratching whisper of Velcro.
“Hey,” I called, to commence my protest, but Cynthia held a finger to my lips.
“You will stay silent or you will be gagged, and with something you really won’t like.”
“But my cock-cage … it’s digging in and really hurts,” I blurted, disregarding her ominous threat.
“OK, OK, calm down,” soothed Cynthia. “Shelly, you grab his other knee.”
With that they grasped one knee each and pulled my legs much wider apart. My cock-cage dropped to a more natural position which immediately eased the squashing and pressure. I couldn’t contain a deep sigh of relief nor a declaration of gratitude as I meekly heard myself say :-
“That’s better, thank you.”
“See,” boasted Cynthia, “I told you he’d thank us for this.”
“No, it’s …. “ I started a protest about twisting my words, but again she placed a finger to my lips.
“Let me repeat, you really don’t want this,” and with that she waved in front of my face what was obviously a cock-gag with straps, but this one was quite long and bulbous and glistened with several rows of short, shiny, sharp-looking spikes. “Do you?”
I vehemently shook my head to silently scream ‘no’. I was in enough trouble as it was.
“Now for the fun part. I hope you like fairground rides, Graham.”
And with that disturbing statement, I felt my recliner start to recline .. and recline… and recline. I was quite high up but tilted far back so I was now looking straight up at the ceiling. Although I was still bent double and firmly wedged in place, it was the spars which had been latched down over my shoulders which were stopping any possible escape from my cramped sink-hole entrapment.
“Time to call for assistance. Is that OK with you, Shell?” asked Cynthia with foreboding in her voice. I was fearful of what now may happen.
I heard the long string of beeps of a speed-dial, then a pause before Cynthia began speaking.
“He’s in position and strapped in as promised, and we’ve even spread his legs wide open. I forgot to get him out of his silk dressing gown, but it rode up when he fell in and his ass is fully exposed. I’ll leave you a pair of scissors if you feel the need for…….. Yeah, yeah, whenever you’re ready…….. Ok, see soon.”
Whatever that was about, it did not sound good, and I hoped it wasn’t what I was thinking.
“Shell and I are going to adjourn to my bedroom soon. I could say I’ll be instructing her in different languages, but then again, I could say I’m going to teach her about foreign tongues. No matter. You’ll be too busy with your own entertainment to be thinking about us.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door. I heard an electronic buzz and a click, and next thing I know, the senior director from my company is looking down at me.
“I told you she is a tyrant and no mistake. But like I said, we go back a long ways and are firm friends, even though we both do different things now.”
“His key is on the table, ‘ cos I’m sure you’ll need it later,” said Cynthia as she stood holding Shelly’s hand. “Mr. Spike is there if you need, and the whips, paddles, lube and all your other weird stuff are in the top drawer of the Chippendale. And please, if you use that hollow, chrome, knitting needle looking thing, try not to make a mess all over the carpet like you did last time …. you know you’ll get charged extra for cleaning. And just in case worse comes to worst, we are doing a big concrete pour for a fountain on Monday”
And as the two ladies walked hand in hand towards the bedroom, Cynthia did one final turn towards me. Her freakish, long, pointed tongue slithered out from between her lips and traced a seductive, slow, lip-licking full sweep side to side.