Late evening

The soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat and the rhythmic putt putt of the motor were failing to be a calming influence as I fought against the waves of claustrophobia.  I’m not sure exactly how long we had been on the boat, or how far we had traveled, but I did know that I had spent far too long inside this airless hood.

I caught snatches of muffled conversation and laughter, but not enough to know what was being said, where I was, or where I was heading.  The combination of disorientation and the constant rocking of the boat was having a nauseating effect on me, so it was a huge relief when the boat’s engine cut and we began to drift, coasting into what I hoped was our destination.  Thankfully, this was confirmed by the gentle nudge as the boat’s hull met land.

At last, my hood was removed, and as my eyes adjusted to the surroundings, the first figure I saw was that of my schoolteacher, Sally Hamilton.  As bizarre as that statement sounds to me now, it remains the truth.

“You okay?” she asked, her warm, comforting smile beaming as if welcoming a child on their first day at school.  And I needed it; our clandestine journey had left me shaken.  I hate being enclosed. I remember as a young boy finding myself at the bottom of a bundle on the school playing fields. I panicked and became hysterical; I’ve never really got over it.

“Yes.”

“You don’t look it.  Here,” she said, handing me a small hip flask.

“What is it?” I asked, smelling the opening.  It's warm, strangely familiar odour tested my limited knowledge.

“It’ll calm your nerves,” she replied, crouching down in front of me.  As she did, the top of her dress fell away, and again to her amusement my curiosity got the better of me.  She was braless, that much was obvious, and her full pale breasts jiggled delightfully, lit only by the soft moonlight.  Taking a gulp from the flask, the liquid warmed my chest before catching in my throat, making me cough.

“Whisky?” I spluttered.

“Brandy,” she replied, sniggering at my innocence, “is to be savoured, not swigged.”

Behind her stood a one-story stone building.  Shards of warm orange light shone through a number of small windows in its facade, sending out a glow over the disembarking party.

“So, what happens now?” I asked, watching the torch-lit line of people snake along the towpath, slowly disappearing through an opening in a low wall.  Sally paused as if recalling her orders, picking out the passages that were safe to tell me.

“I am going to take you inside with me after the others are ...”

“Am I in danger?” I interrupted, her body language somehow giving me reason to worry.

“No, you’re not.  But you must do as you are asked.  These people are used to getting their own way,” she responded, as the last of the torchlights faded from view.  Suddenly it was just the two of us alone in the boat.  The gentle ripple of the river flowed all around us in the darkness of the night.

“Was this the plan all along?” I asked, becoming concerned as to what lay ahead.  None of this felt like fun anymore, and frankly, I no longer wanted to be involved.

“Sorry?”

“To seduce me and get me into all this.  Is it just a game you people play?”

“No, it wasn’t.  This is none of my doing, and that’s the truth.”

“So, what’s going on in there?”

“What do you think?”

“I don't know.  At the moment there’s a lot going on in my head.” And there was, but none of it was good.  As Margaret Kingsley had said to me earlier this evening, ‘Nothing is off the table.’

“Everything that you are thinking and more.  But as long as we keep to the script, there really is nothing to worry about.” At that moment, her phone buzzed in her handbag.  She reached in and read the message.

“Who is it?”

“Everyone has arrived.  We’d better head in,” she said, holding up the lamp, and allowing me to exit the boat.  I held out an arm to assist her, and as she pulled herself up, I realised that the relationship between us had changed.  She was no longer my schoolteacher, my lover, my friend.  I was heading into a place that neither of us could control, I had to keep my wits about me; it was self-preservation if I were to come out the other side.

********

The first surprise when we entered the building was that it wasn’t at all what I was expecting.  I had imagined some kind of candle-lit mediaeval scene, not the clean, carpeted, modern down-lit corridor that we were presented with.  I could hear the muddled hum of conversation coming from behind a set of large double doors as we made our way towards a small comfortable side room.

“What is this place?” I asked, imagining the hidden audience baying for entertainment like the roman aristocracy at the Coliseum.

“It used to be a stable block,” she said, showing me to a seat in front of a dressing-table.

“The Henson’s?”

“No, someone a lot further up the food chain,” she replied, searching impatiently through the dresser drawers.

“What’s up?”

“I was told everything would be here, and it’s not,” she tutted.

“What are you looking for?” I asked as I watched her leave the room.  Down the hall, I could hear voices.  It was a man and a woman talking but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said.  Leaving my seat, I quietly inched my way along the corridor towards the open door of the next room.  As I got closer the voices became clearer and I also realised who it was.  Leaning back against the wall, I eavesdropped the conversation.

“Are you still okay with this?” Nick said, the concern noticeable in his voice.

“So, what do we do, walk away?” Eve replied.

“Yes.  No.  I don’t know.” There was a nervous exasperation in his tone as if he had been backed into a corner and couldn’t see a way out.  “I didn’t expect this.  They said that we are just going to the house and that you would be involved in an initiation.  Yes, I realised what that would possibly entail, but I didn’t expect all this at all.”

“He’s so young Nick; is it even legal?”

“Technically it is as I’ve been assured that the boy is seventeen, but morally and ethically, well that’s a different issue.”

“Why him?”

“Well, I can guess.”

“So can I.  You must have heard them all talking.”

“About what?”

“Christ Nick, haven’t you been listening to anything tonight?” I don’t know why, but listening in on the conversation, hearing her struggle with their predicament, turned me on. I could actually feel myself becoming aroused.  “Apparently he’s big, you know, down there.” The statement made me smile as it hung unanswered in the air and I even had to stifle a giggle as the tension grew in the room, waiting for someone to break the silence.  Eventually, it was Nick.

“Will you be okay; I mean how big are we talking?”

“You saw him at the pool in those tiny trunks.  It didn’t leave much to the imagination,” she answered, but this time something had altered, there was a taunting inflexion in her voice like she was enjoying his discomfort.

“This time tomorrow Eve, we will be a thousand miles away from here at our house on Lake Garda.”

“I know.”

“Will you promise me something?” he said, his voice beginning to crack. “Promise me that you won’t give in, that he won’t win you over.  Will you promise me that?” I can only imagine that some of Margaret Kingsley’s words from earlier had struck a chord with him, heightening his own insecurities.  His question was met with an awkward silence.  “Promise me that he won’t make you his.”

At the far end of the corridor, I heard a door slam, and for some reason, it spooked me, I felt like a child caught somewhere I shouldn’t be and scampered back to my room.

By the time Sally reappeared, I was back in the room and sat in front of the mirrored dressing table.  Behind her I caught a fleeting glimpse of Nick as he passed by, the worried, pained expression on his face said it all as he glanced in my direction.

The excited shrill of women’s voices and the chink of wine glasses sounded from along the corridor, making me curious as to what was going on, as unceremoniously Sally began to undress me.  There was a sudden, palpable urgency in the air that you could almost taste; an excitable, electric energy, and I loved it.  I was the centre of attention, the main attraction.

First, she peeled off my tight blue V-neck T-shirt, and then knelt provocatively before me, slowly unbuttoned the fly on my shorts.  I noticed a pleasing shiver come over her as they dropped to the floor, causing her to look up.  Her eyes were wide, with a wild, restless quality that I couldn’t read.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“About what?”

“About this.” She said, placing her hands behind her back, and bowing her head slightly, before taking my relaxed cock in her mouth.  I could feel her tongue as it worked in circles around the sensitive crown, growing beyond hard within the soft confines.  Laying her tongue flat on the shaft she slowly inched her way down until I felt it pass her tonsils, and her nose was buried in the sparse trimmed pubic hair on my pelvis, then back.

“Is that what you like?” she purred, as she removed my cock from her mouth.  My erection felt strangely heavy and almost painfully hard as it stood proudly before me.  I felt a little lightheaded, not dizzy but almost in a dream-like state with my foreskin pulled tightly back, revealing the thick, swollen, dark pink helmet.

Taking a tube from the dressing table she squirted some of its gel onto her hand and massaged it along my erect length.  Her fingers felt cool as she worked the liquid in my skin and after a few seconds, it left a slightly numb sensation.

“What is it?”

“It will delay you.  We don’t want you going off too soon and spoiling our fun, do we?”

“Is she okay?” I asked, referring to Eve.

“She will be,” she answered with a smile, “they will have given her something by now.”

“What?”

“A potion; it’s harmless but effective.  It will make her more responsive to you.  Make her nerve endings a lot more sensitive.  Believe me, the Eve you have met this evening and the one that you will see shortly will bear little resemblance.  A bit like Jekyll and Hyde,” she said, as she continued to massage the gel into my now rock-hard erection.

Not for the first time tonight we were alone, and I was acutely aware of the silence.  The trill of women’s voices had disappeared, leaving an empty void.

“Have they left?” I asked, more for my own confirmation that anything else.

“Yes, they have.  She will be waiting for you in the chamber with the others,” she replied, fetching a cloak that was hung on a peg behind me and two masquerade masks.  The cloak felt uncomfortably heavy around my shoulders, its scratchy cloth appeared to be made from some kind of heavy drape.  I was handed a black mask with a long, pointed nose that covered my eyes, nose, and cheekbones.  Sally wore a navy-blue cat-like mask on a stick, which covered her eyes.

“It’s time to go, Scaramouche,” she grinned, and with those words, she began to lead me down the carpeted corridor, not towards the double wooded doors as I had expected, but through a smaller side entrance.

Once inside, I let my eyes adjust to my new surroundings, the mask cutting off my peripheral vision and I found that I had to turn my head completely to see.  There must have been thirty people gathered.  The main stable block had been converted and was now a large open space with exposed wooden beams above, and a hard, stone floor.  The guests were all wearing face coverings of various designs, from the more traditional masquerade mask to the modern equivalent.

‘Scream’, ‘IT’, and ‘Salvador Dali’ masks sat next to cartoon images of Margaret Thatcher, Donald Trump and Tom Hanks.  Their dress was disappointingly current; I had expected them to be dressed in long hooded robes.

Eve stood in front of a large double bed in the middle of the room.  To my surprise, she appeared calm, and even more remarkably, considering the ceremonial robe that I was wearing, still wore the same clothes that she had arrived in.  Curiously, Nick sat unmasked in a tall hard-backed chair to the side of the white-sheeted bed.

Having entered the room, I had remained with Sally, hidden behind an open curtain at the side.  The mood had a hushed, expectant air, with people talking in a low murmur.  The waitresses from earlier had also traveled with us, their traditional maids’ uniforms now discarded, black bra, thong, and stockings being the new order as they moved amongst the guests serving wine.

The alarming sound of wood on stone bought everyone to attention, as a woman stood in the middle of the room.  She was quite a tall lady. Five-foot ten maybe, with short-cropped blonde hair.  She carried a long crooked wooden staff in her hand and wore a tight, purple Basque, which struggled manfully to contain her obviously enhanced bosom.  The top half of her face was covered by a devil’s mask, complete with twisted goat horns.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she announced to an immediately attentive audience.  “Tonight, we will be welcoming our newest inductee into the fellowship.  The ceremony will be held in accordance with tradition.” Eve remained at the foot of the bed.  There was no emotion on her face but instead, her focus remained on the large doors in front of her.

“As many here will know, it was Lady Jane Hill who was first put in this position of obligation, over two hundred years ago.  She was well known in certain circles for the treatment of her house servants, often administering brutal punishments for the most minor of digressions.  Her satyr on that day was a black slave, chosen for his strength and endowment.  At first, she had to be held down by servants until nature took its course, and she succumbed to the Mandingo’s cock.”

I was beginning to find the small side room incredibly hot and airless, the weight of both the robe and the expectations felt heavy around my shoulders.  Tears of sweat ran down my back and gathered on my brow under the mask.  Sally parted the robe and began to rub my erect and aching cock.

“She likes to draw it out,” Sally whispered in my ear.

“You know her?”

“Yes, she’s David’s sister, Alice.”

“Keeping it in the family?”

“Something like that,” she smirked, “I’ve only been present at two previous initiations, and she has been the mistress of ceremonies at both.  This is now the third time I’ve heard this story.”

“I feel that the black man is significant?”

“He is.  All these initiations are designed to cause humiliation to both the man and woman, to draw on their greatest fear.  That racist cow’s fear was being taken by someone that she considered to be beneath her, the humiliation was having her husband witness her reaction.”

“And Eve?” I asked.

“She is a teacher like me.  A government schools’ inspector, actually.  I’m sure you understand the implications.” I did; it was crystal clear.  It was all about trust and security.  Mutually assured destruction.  If anyone betrayed the Fellowship, then they would be exposed and taken down by making this initiation public.  The Fellowship would see that their career, reputation, and future would be ruined. Quite clever really.

A peel of laughter broke my reverie, drawing my attention back to the scantily clad woman in the centre of the room.

“So, to the matter at hand,” she said, turning her attention to the flush-faced Eve.  “You are here at your own volition, yes?”

“Yes,” Eve answered, her voice barely audible.

“And you understand and agree to what is about to happen and its justification?” There was an awkward pause when she appeared to let the statement sink in.  Her mind possibly running through all the consequences.  Slowly she turned her head to look at her husband as if she were waiting for him to intervene.  Nick sat nervously in the hardback chair, his hands gripping the wooden arms.  Silent.

“Yes,” she stuttered, her bottom lip quivering as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.  This only served to inspire her assailant, who lifted the hem of her short peach coloured dress with the ancient-looking staff, revealing thin black underwear underneath.

“Shaven or au naturel?” she asked her audience, playing to the gallery, as Eve looked at her husband with a look of horror on her face, searching in vain for support.

“Shaven!” came the first cry from one of the masked men, followed by a chorus of claims and counterclaims from the assembly.

“Take off your panties,” Alice ordered, provoking a hum of approval from around the room.  Eve’s eyes widened at the prospect as if the gravity of the situation had only just dawned on her.

She was like a bride standing with her father at the entrance of the church, with all the doubts and stresses of past weeks leading up to this moment.  With a resigning sigh, her hands lifted her dress as she bent at the waist and reached underneath.  The room fell as silent as the Cenotaph at eleven o’clock on Remembrance Sunday.

Everyone watched as her hips shimmied and the sheer black thong emerged from under the hem and fell in a pool around her ankles.  In front of her, Alice held out her hand, and as ladylike as Eve could manage, she knelt and retrieved the garment from the floor and handed it to her.  Alice held it aloft like it was a gladiator’s severed head and brought it to her nose.

“I do believe that the slut is turned on,” she declared, rubbing her fingers over the damp gusset, before throwing it in the direction of Nick.

“They’re not mine,” Eve protested, as the discarded underwear landed expertly on Nick’s chest.  It was with a huge degree of embarrassment that he quickly screwed them up in his hand and squirreled them away in his pocket.

“The time has come for the acceptance,” Alice announced, turning her attention back to her audience.  “Nicholas Henson has been proposed as this season’s aspirant, to become the four hundred and ninth second associate of the Fellowship.  Does anyone here present hold any objections as to why this cannot continue?”

I peered through the open curtains and watched as this strange, masked gathering looked around the room for a doubter.  There was none.  “Then we shall proceed.” This was the cue for Sally to pull back the curtains and parade me, somewhat unconventionally, by my painfully erect cock to the centre of the room.

I stood facing Eve, with Alice between us.  Sally faced me and opened my robe, pulling the course material off my shoulders, and leaving me naked before the watching eyes.  She handed the robe to one of the waitresses and left me to stand next to Eve.

I was left in bizarre company, surrounded by a staring audience whose faces were hidden by an array of grotesque images.  There were, I noticed, a few pleasing gasps from the ladies, holding their masks to their faces with a stick in one hand while cooling themselves with a paper fan in the other.

I felt confident in my appearance.  Dad had put his back out about two months before, which meant that I had to do all the heavy lifting and shifting at the market stall.  All those early morning trips to Spitalfields had left me with broad shoulders and a decent six-pack.

On my left-hand side, one of the waitresses had stopped what she was doing and stood watching me.  She held a tray of drinks in her hands, gasping almost opened mouthed.  Finally, I noticed Eve, her face aghast with the enormity of the task ahead writ large on her features.

“We have now arrived at the consummation.  The moment where ambition meets commitment.” Sally left Eve and walked behind to the head of the bed, as Alice began to unzip the back of Eve’s peach coloured dress, her hands sliding the material off Eve’s shoulders and down her arms, before dragging the dress down over her body until eventually it was kicked to one side.

After her black bra was unclipped, Alice's hands cupped Eve’s breasts, scissoring her nipples between her fore and index fingers, drawing an unexpected groan as she pulled at the erect pink nipples.

Eve’s breasts were almost perfect, not as large as Sally’s but close.  I compared them by remembering the label on one of Sally’s bras, which I read while she was in the shower.  Sally was 38DD, and while not fully understanding the mechanics, I estimated that she was smaller, maybe a 36DD.

The dark, trimmed triangle of pubic hair above her sex was a novelty to me, in fact, I can’t remember seeing anyone else like this.  All the women that I had been with, were either completely bald or had thin shaped strips, this was completely new to me.

Alice then turned Eve and knelt her down, over the bottom of the bed, her shapely behind facing the room.

“Do you understand the forfeiture?” Alice asked.

“Yes,” a barely audible Eve answered.  Her tone was curt with a little added exasperation.

“Tell us.” The room was silent, with all eyes on Alice.  Eve also remained quiet.  The silence was interrupted by the crack of a riding crop on Eve’s bare bottom, drawing a yelp from the unsuspecting woman.  “Tell us!” Alice called out.

“I have to be fucked.” She answered and it was clear that she had no desire to play along.  Again, the crop came down on her bare skin.

“Have to be?”

“Yes,” and yet again the crack of the riding crop rang out.  This time a little harder, leaving a pale pink line on the right cheek as her back arched.  “I am to be,” she whimpered.

“You are to be what?”

“Fucked.” An insidious grin played across Alice’s lips as Eve finally surrendered.  After all, where would be fun if she had continued to deny.  The joy was in watching her yield and savouring Nick’s mortified reaction.

Out from the shadows came a fat lady, her face covered by a jester’s mask.  She knelt down and rubbed her thick middle finger between Eve’s parted legs, over her slit, then inside, smoothly entering and sawing back and forth.  A quiet moan emitted from Eve’s lips, as the woman continued, adding a second, and then a third finger.

“Good.  By whom?”

“The boy,” Eve groaned.  My cock now ached so much that it hurt, and I could feel a pulse as my blood-filled its veins and swelled the head.

“The boy’s what?” The interrogation continued, much to my consternation but I’m sure to the enjoyment of the gathering.  Eve paused as she considered her answer, the delay bringing another punishment in the form of a smack on the arse.  I looked over at Nick whose eyes were dead as he clung on to the wooden arms of the chair as if he were going to fall.

“His willy.” Her eventual answer resulted in the assembly bursting into laughter, including myself.

“Willy!” She cried, bringing the crop down again.  Eve’s bottom was now noticeably marked, not red but a pricked pink. “Dick,” Eve whimpered, receiving another blow in response. “Prick,” she cried, continuing to refuse to play the game as again the crop whistled through the air.

“Say it,” Alice challenged, her riding crop poised menacingly in her hand.

“Cock,” she finally cried out after a dramatic pause, the timbre of her voice now reduced to a croaking murmur while also appearing to take pleasure from her ordeal, wiggling her backside as if asking for another.

My mind raced back to the small room off the corridor, and to what Sally had said about her being given something to make her more responsive.  Eve had now been turned onto her back, her face and chest a pink blush.

“What do you want?” Alice asked, her voice low and direct.  With Eve’s legs spread wide, the fat lady’s hand teased Eve’s swollen and noticeably moist labia.  Her eyes in wild turmoil as she desperately fought off the inevitable.

“Tell me what you want, Eve.” Alice probed, increasing the agony by lightly tapping her exposed pussy with the crop.  Eventually, Eve moaned something indecipherable to most of the room.

“Tell your husband,” she ordered, turning her head to face him, and in doing so a brief regretful expression arrived on Eve’s face, as I watched as Nick’s body crumbled and his face dropped; all was lost.

“Tell him what you just said.  Tell him what you want.”

“His cock.”

“Tell him again.”

“His cock.” She grunted, “I want his cock.” Alice ushered me forward until I was only a few feet from the bed.

“You want this cock?” she said, tapping lightly with the crop.

“Yes.”

“This young man’s cock?”

“Yes.” I looked around the room for a camera or someone holding a phone up, but I couldn’t see anything.  Surely this was all being recorded or documented, but I couldn’t see where.

“How young?” This was it.  This was the insurance, the moment that would guarantee their allegiance.

“I don’t know.”

“Too young?”

“No.  I don’t know.”

“But you want it regardless?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Alice pulled me forward, her hand holding my cock against the entrance to Eves pussy, I could feel the heat coming from inside her.

“Yes.”

“Even though you are not convinced, you will still let him have you.”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“I want him,” she breathed, “I want his cock.  I want him to fuck me with his big cock.” At the head of the bed, I could see Sally, her eyes locked on me and just to the side, I noticed Katarina Vaskova, the buttons down the front of her thin, white jumpsuit undone, while behind her stood a thick-set man wearing a Saw mask, his hands inside feeling her naked breasts.

Katarina didn’t move a muscle, instead, her attention was drawn to the surreal scene before.  Her expression was one of quiet disbelief, and I have to admit that I couldn’t quite believe it myself.  These people are crazy, but this was going to happen, Nick sat waiting, his request for her not to succumb rejected.

Alice placed her hand on my bum and nudged my hips forward.  My god, Eve was wet, her juices washing over me as I eased myself into her with only the slightest hint of resistance.  The reaction was immediate, her eyes confused and searching as she opened her legs to receive me, cooing as I delved deeper, her body spasming, as her muscles contracted around my cock.  Alice leaned in and whispered in my ear.

“No mercy Joseph.  Make her beg, but save something for later, you’re going to be a very popular boy.” I was in a strange place.  Eve’s reaction was the perfect embodiment of sexual joy.  Her body shivered and shook as I fucked her through her orgasm, but I felt very little.  Whatever pill Sally had given me earlier was keeping me rock hard, but the gel had dulled the senses.  At this rate, either my cock was going to explode, or I would collapse through exhaustion.

All around me, comments rained down from around the room, some towards me, some to Eve, but most of them aimed at Nick.

“Looks like she’s getting a real cock at last.” “She’ll never feel you again.” “I bet you wish that you could do that to her.”

I understood this to be banter, a rite of passage.  Whenever the Fellowship met again, Nick will be on the other side, one of them, one of the team shouting the insults at some poor ambitious fool.  What I found more interesting though was the reaction of the other wives.

At one time or another, they too were the centre of attention, this time they all sat observing, almost taking notes, apart from the occasional raising of their empty wine glass, requesting a refill from one of the half-naked waitresses.  They just sat still, engrossed in the proceedings.

Eve lay under me on the white linen sheet, her saturated dark brown hair matted to her flushed, crimson face in the stifling heat.  Beads of sweat ran down my neck, over my back and trickled between the cheeks of my arse.  Those beautiful hazel eyes looked up at me with covetousness that was both pleasing and warm.

I had expected this to be an aggressive and torturous experience but in reality, the only one not enjoying themselves was Nick, who sat totally crestfallen, watching as his wife ground her hips up to meet me, her hard, erect nipples confirming her arousal as her hands reached out around me, gripping my buttocks and pulling me in.

I may have said this before, but there is something in me, something bordering on cruelty buried deep in my psyche.  Maybe it’s the devil on my shoulder, goading me.  I was taking a perverse amount of pleasure from watching Nick's discomfort.  His distraught, grey clammy face with wide staring eyes.  I couldn’t help myself.

“How does it feel?” I asked, my mouth only inches from her ear, but I knew that he could hear every word.  Actually, I was pretty sure that the whole room could hear what was being said, and so was she.  Eve gazed up at me as if she was trying to communicate without using words, then grunted a response, her pelvis grinding into mine.

“How much bigger?” I asked, drawing a hushed hiss from the assembly, not unlike a sharp intake of breath.  I knew the answer, call me arrogant, conceited, vain or whatever, but I knew.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nick, his head bowed and cocked to one side.

He also knew but wondered if his wife would say it.  Wondered if his wife would betray him.  Wondered what sort of life they would have together after all this was over.  He would have heard Margaret Kingsley earlier, and would now be questioning what the future held.  Would she be satisfied after tonight or like the others have to concede for the greater good?  The exchange in pursuit of power is to lose the one you love.  He must have wanted a hole to open up in the floor and swallow him.

Eve was also aware of what I was doing, but she shook and smirked, her silent grin of confirmation was what I was looking for, I responded by forcefully driving my cock into her, making her squeal and bite her bottom lip.  “How much?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am what?” The question brought a deep moan from her, as her body shivered, and she blew out her cheeks.  She was close.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” Her fingers raked through my hair, resting on the back of my head, where my short, tapered hairline met my neck.

“You’re a bad, bad boy,” she breathed.

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

“What do bad boys have that nice boys don’t?” I withdrew my cock, leaving just the tip teasing her wet slit.  Her eyes sprang open and then narrowed.  I’m not a mind-reader, but I am convinced she telepathically called me a bastard.  Her hips wiggled towards me in a desperate attempt to pull me in.

I pinned her arms down above her head, my hands holding her wrists, and every time she inched towards me, I backed my hips away. “Say it.”  One of the wives to my right, nearly left her seat in her enthusiasm to get a better view.

“Bad boys have bigger cocks,” she whined.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” she hissed, and I rewarded her by quickly thrusting forward, withdrawing then repeating, over and over.  The sound of her squelching vagina and her breathless moans filled the quiet barn, her breasts dancing a mesmerising jig, magnificently, underneath me.

Thankfully, I could feel the effects of the gel wearing off, waking my senses, and sending strong messages to my nerve endings.  I had no idea how long we had been here, twenty minutes maybe.  Sally had said that the use of the gel was to stop me cumming too soon, but the numbness had worryingly lasted a lot longer than I expected.

Eve looked exhausted, I had counted six orgasms, and although I would love to take credit for all of them, I was fully aware of the part played by whatever potion had been administered to her, that had caused a sensual overload.  Alice also noticed the change in me, arriving at my side, her hand tracing a gentle line down my body.

“Where do you want his seed?” she asked the now spent Eve whose mouth was open, but only an indecipherable guttural grunt came out, her eyes continually rolling into the back of her head.  “Where do you want him to cum sweetie,” she asked again, pricking something in Eve’s brain.

“In me.  I want to feel his cum inside me.” This prompted an instant, angry reaction from Nick, who stood and bellowed his protest across the room.

“Sit down, sir,” Alice hissed, “such behaviour is not permitted here.  I will not stand for it.” Nick remained standing as he fought with his emotions.  “I told you to sit down.” On this second request, he did as he was asked, slumping back down in the chair, defeated.

Eve didn’t appear to notice the outburst, or if she did, she didn’t react, her body still rising to meet my cock, relishing the affair.  Alice walked around to the back of Nick’s chair, her hand resting on his shoulders.

“I suppose this indiscretion deserves a reprisal.  Any suggestions?” This question received a multitude of wild and wonderful comments, from the innocent to the extreme.  What struck me was that even though Nick had spoken out, all the proposed punishments would be administered by Eve.

“I believe I should really listen to your wife,” she said, before instructing two of the waitresses to hold Eve’s legs apart in a wide V, as I rutted her.  I was growing tired and an ache ran from the head of my cock down to my testicles.

One of the waitresses licked her fingers and unprompted, she gently began to strum Eve’s clitoris, causing a reaction that I hadn’t expected.  A low almost silent scream emitted from her lips, as she struggled like she was fighting to suppress herself, then her body began to shake violently as she ejaculated.

Liquid gushed from between her legs, showering not only my lower body but also the waitress’s arm before she could retreat.  The contractions inside her combined with the unexpected bodily function pushed me to the point of no return, and with a huge growl of relief, I released myself inside her.  All around me I could hear a cacophony of muttering voices, as the gathering charged their glasses.

I don’t know why, perhaps it just felt like the right thing to do, but I leaned down and kissed her.  This was the one solitary moment that was real, it had all been so forced and fake.  She received my lips and returned the kiss, hungrily searching for my tongue, her hands on my face, running through my hair.

Surprisingly, considering the situation, we had connected, and this was our way of showing it.  Nothing about what had happened was normal, nothing about these people was either.  For them, the show was over and slowly the room began to empty as they filtered out.  I searched in vain for Sally.  Throughout, she had remained at the head of the bed, watching.  Now she had disappeared.

Eve pulled me close, our hot, sweaty, drained bodies touching.

“You okay?” I asked, knowing that after what we had been through, in front of these people she must have been feeling at the very least, awkward.

“Yes, I am,” she replied, “I’m glad it was you.”

“Why?”

“I had a terrible feeling it was going to be some brute of a man, who was going to do all sorts of horrible things to me.” I could see Nick watching and listening to us, as her hand ran down my body, stroking between my legs, and feeling my still erect cock.

“Well, I can do those things too.  I’m full of surprises.” This made her laugh, and I realised that this was the first time I had seen this side of her.

“You’re still hard.  You did cum, didn’t you?  I mean I felt you cum, didn’t I?”

“I did.” I had to admit that this reaction had alarmed me as well.  My recovery time is good, normally about twenty minutes, but never before had I remained hard.  “I was given a pill,” I said, as she began to wank my erection.

“Viagra probably.  They gave me something as well,” she replied, “do you need to cum again?”

“I’m seventeen, what do you think.” This made her laugh, throwing back her head and clapping her hands.

“I’m sure you can.  Not today though Joey.  It is Joey, isn’t it?

“Joey or Joseph, I don’t care.  So, you mean that you’d like an encore?” She leaned in and kissed me deeply and unsympathetic to her watching husband.  It was almost like she was putting on a show, sucking on my tongue like it was an ice-cream lolly, before breaking away and looking me in the eye.

“Absolutely.”