Undercover secrets, p.19
Undercover Secrets, page 19
A few paces further on she was stopped again. This time the man beckoned her to lean closer to him. As her upper body bowed towards his head, he motioned her lower and lower. She wasn’t sure what he wanted until his head darted forward to one of her dangling breasts. Opening his mouth wide, he took as much of her soft flesh in his mouth as he could, sucking hard on her skin. Anna felt the backs of her thighs quivering as he grazed her with his teeth. Then, like the first man, he’d had enough. He took a drink from the tray, and waved her on.
Her third customer put his hand up the back of her skirt, fondling her buttocks as she stood beside him. The fourth took a swig from his glass, and then licked her nipple with a tongue so cold and wet from the drink that it gave her goosebumps. The fifth was a woman. She asked Anna to kneel down by her seat, and she Frenchkissed her and played with her breasts, squeezing her mounds and pinching her nipples.
This is incredible, Anna thought, as she went back to the bar to refill her tray. She was being viewed as an object. No waitress ever got treated with this little respect, she was sure. Her customers were using her body as if she were a dish of bar snacks, picking out the bits they liked and nibbling greedily on them for a moment. It was selfish and impersonal; she could have been anyone; any pair of breasts would do. And yet she was glad it was her breasts they reached out for in the gloom. She wanted it to be her arse they leered at through the slash in her skirt.
‘You haven’t done this before, have you?’ the woman asked as she arranged more glasses on Anna’s tray.
‘Yes,’ Anna said. Knowing she meant it, a bolt of reality shot through her. She got an image of herself back in the flat with Suzy, the pair of them giggling and planning who they would seduce on their next night out. Another image followed, of her at work; of the feeling of satisfaction she got when she’d had a good day, and Mike had given her a backhanded compliment. Those seemed such simple pleasures now — now that she’d tasted pleasure far more complex. In her head, she took a step back and looked at herself. Was this the real Anna? Would any of her friends recognise the confident, cockily independent woman they knew? They wouldn’t believe their eyes if they could see her dressed as a strip-club waitress, parading around topless and knickerless. But allowing herself to behave like this was the most thrilling thing Anna had ever done. Had her life outside dulled in comparison to this? Without a doubt. Had the old Anna gone missing, frightened away by the new version?
Her sexuality had flipped. Where she had wanted domination over her lovers, she now found herself craving submission. Total control had been hers; now, she wanted to hand that control to someone else.
Whatever the reasons for her transformation, they were hidden somewhere deep inside her mind; probably the same dark place these desires were coming from. It was impossible to analyse and, as another audience member slipped his hand up her skirt, she gave up trying. Just enjoy it, her body told her.
A man sitting in the centre of a row held up his hand for a drink. Putting down her tray, Anna took a glass and squeezed down between people’s knees and the row of seats in front. There was just enough room for her if she shuffled along sideways. Moving slowly, the men she passed took the opportunity to stroke the backs of her legs or pat her behind. When she reached the man who’d called her, he took the glass and put it down on the floor. Without a word, he grabbed Anna’s hips and turned her round to face the front of the room again, so she had her back to him. Then he pushed firmly in the centre of her back, making her bend over. Anna’s breasts brushed the head of the man in front, and as she held on to the back of his seat he turned his head and began to suckle on a wide nipple. Behind her, she could feel the other man’s breath on her sex, and she could feel her sex lips swelling at the thought of his face, so close to her. She imagined what he could see: her buttocks peeping naughtily through the split, her pussy, dark and glistening. The image made her shudder with debauched delight.
His hands spread over her buttocks and opened her cheeks wider apart. He muttered something to the person sitting next to him, and then Anna felt his tongue against the skin between her anus and pussy. Her spine jerked with shock as cold liquid was trickled down her crack. The man lapped frantically, trying to catch every spilt drop from her skin. Anna shook her head slightly at the thought of being used as a drinking vessel. The feeling of his thirsty tongue on her behind was insane and intense. More of his drink was poured over her and the man licked in expansive strokes from her throbbing clit to her wincing anus. Anna gasped as the man in front of her bit her nipple, and the man behind swirled his sticky tongue around her tiny arsehole. Pressing at her opening, he made her flinch as he tried to gain entry to her most intimate place. Anna could feel her muscles flexing, trying to expel the intruder, but he kept on trying until her body accepted defeat. Anna had to close her eyes as her tight hole opened for his strong tongue. It was an amazing, unnatural feeling to have his mouth probing her forbidden hole. Broken shards of pleasure leapt from her sensitive anus and sparkled behind her dark eyelids.
Her hands were shaking by the time he had finished with her, and she shuffled back out to the aisle. She barely had the strength to carry her tray any more; her body was on a different plane now, and all she wanted was to lie down and let the silent audience members use her. Desperate for release, she purposely squeezed her way down another row. The men and women touched her, slipping their hands beneath her skirt and squeezing her breasts. But they wouldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a servant; a plaything for their fleeting amusement. It was driving her wild.
After refilling her tray once more, she reached the front of the room. Her heart leapt as she noticed Peter sitting in the aisle seat. Surely he would let her have what she so desperately needed. But he practically ignored her as she offered him a glass. His eyes were fixed on his wife in the room directly in front of his seat. He took a drink and waved Anna on. ‘Kneel down,’ he snapped. ‘You’ll spoil the view.’ She knelt. ‘All fours,’ he barked.
So she was forced to crawl across the front row, pushing the tray of drinks along the floor in front of her. It was incredibly degrading, her breasts dangling heavily and wobbling as she shuffled on her hands and knees, her buttocks and pussy visible through the wide-open split. But the most degrading part was that no one was looking at her. Their eyes were fixed on the action taking place above her; things so perverse that a sexy, barely dressed woman on all fours wasn’t even a distraction.
She looked up. ‘Simon,’ she breathed thankfully. Surely he would want her.
He held his hand out for a drink. Anna sat back on her heels while he gulped it down. Wiping the back of his wide mouth, he greedily admired her outfit. ‘Touch yourself for me,’ he said.
Sitting right in front of him, Anna opened her knees. Her skirt was so short it rode right up, giving Simon a glimpse into the darkness beneath. Anna dropped her hand between her legs and rubbed a finger along her labia. Her sex lips were swollen and they opened easily as she pressed her fingertip between the moist folds. The juice was overflowing from her pussy. Anna stroked upward, covering the hard knob of her clitoris with the sweet musk. Her pelvis arched as she circled the bundle of raw nerve-endings. In her state of desperation it was almost too much, and she moved her hand back down again and slipped a finger inside her tight hole. Looking up, she watched Simon’s eyes as he drank in the sight of her, her finger dipping in and out of her moist pussy. Simon wouldn’t be able to resist. He would want his cock where her hand was; he would make her come.
But just like the others, he lost interest and waved her on her way. Almost sobbing with frustration, Anna crawled unsteadily to the end of the row and back again, emptying her tray. This was too much, she thought. She had to have something inside her, now. Perhaps there was an empty bottle behind the bar. She’d go up there and bring herself off.
She stood up to find Peter waiting for her in the aisle. ‘You see, Anna,’ he sm
Anna raised a pitiful smile. For the first time since she’d come in, she had the chance to share the audience’s view. In the room nearest to her, Joan was now curled into a ball on the leather cot, with her hands cuffed behind her back. Her bottom was poked up in the air, and one of her lovers was pumping into her from behind. The two men had swapped places, and the man who’d been fucking her before was now lying beneath her, holding her head over his cock.
‘It’s driving you mad, isn’t it?’ Peter laughed quietly, teasing her. ‘All these people watching, and you have to work. Well, you can have a rest now, Anna. You’ve earnt it.’
Thank God, Anna thought, hoping as he took her hand that the torment was over. But he pulled her to the very front of the room. Calling Simon up from the audience, he left Anna standing there while he and Simon went to opposite walls. In the dim light, Anna couldn’t really see what they were fumbling with, but as two cuffs lowered from the ceiling she realised it was some sort of pulley system. When the cuffs had reached her head, Peter returned to her side.
He turned her round to face the glass-walled cells. ‘Now you can enjoy doing what you like best,’ he said, fixing her hand into a fur-lined cuff. ‘You can be a voyeur.’ He cuffed her other hand, and went to resume his seat.
This was far worse than being felt up by the audience; at least then she’d had contact with other flesh. Now, imprisoned only feet away from the sex show, she couldn’t even touch herself. Frustrated to the point of screaming, Anna tugged on the cuffs holding her hands out at head level. But that was no use: the pulley system lifted her heels off the floor as she pulled on the ropes. She was trapped in her own lust, tortured by the images in front of her.
And those images were getting headier. In several of the rooms, physical games had turned into games of control and submission. These lovers had taken their exploration to such levels that fucking was no longer a thrill. There were whips being used on bare buttocks, clamps gripping hard nipples, and gags silencing protests. One man was wearing a mask which covered his entire face, apart from holes for the nostrils and a zip opening for his mouth. His partner was grinding her pussy on to his mouth, and tugging on the contraption that was separating his cock from his balls. Women and men wielded dildos of every size and shape, forcing their victims to screw up their faces and pull in vain on their restraints. They were playing with each other’s minds as well as their spent bodies. It was compelling to watch, and made even more eerie by the silence; the audience could see every detail, but could hear nothing.
Anna could hear her heart pounding. Already driven wild by her provocative waitressing job, this was pushing her rapidly towards madness. Her pussy wept with juice and her clit throbbed insistently. The tiny nub of flesh felt as big as a fist and hard with the pent-up desire that was controlling her body.
She moaned, not realising how loud the sound was until Peter appeared in front of her. ‘Had enough?’ he soothed, stroking her hot cheek. ‘Well, we haven’t. We like watching you, Anna.’ He summoned someone from the audience, and Simon joined them again. ‘Poor little Anna, I don’t think she can take any more,’ Peter sneered. ‘She needs something to… fill her hunger.’
Simon obviously knew what this meant. Without a word, he walked out of sight. He returned and handed something to Peter, who moved behind Anna and unzipped her skimpy skirt. Pulling it down, he lifted her ankles and helped her step out of it. Anna looked down as something hard and cold brushed against her calf.
Peter was fitting her with some sort of contraption. As he pulled it over her stockings and suspenders, Anna watched with mounting dread. It was a soft leather G-string of sorts, but with a long, narrow hole in the crotch to allow access to her pussy. That wasn’t the worrying bit; it was the cold, greasy knob nudging into her cleft that was sending her pulse into overdrive. In front of her, Simon bent to help. With a hand behind each knee, he lifted her legs up, bending them towards her chest and holding them up above the floor. Anna knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. When the oily dildo was pushed inside her anus, she let out an involuntary cry of anguish. Just having a man’s tongue in there before had been divine insanity. Now, a thick plug filled her arsehole. The end seemed to be rubbing at the base of her brain. Spasms twitched in her buttocks. She fought with Simon to let her legs go. She wanted to kick out, to flail against the feeling.
Simon held on. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed her folded legs between their chests and absorbed her panic. As the spasms subsided, a deep warmth radiated from her arsehole. Fiddling behind her back, Peter tightened the adjustable straps of the leather thong, buckling her in so that the plug was held firmly inside her. That was one part of her body taken care of, she thought, as waves of pleasure rippled over her skin. Now for her pussy. Would it be Simon or Peter?
It seemed it was going to be neither. Peter moved around to Anna’s side, calling someone else out from the audience. A stocky man with dark hair arrived, together with the blonde waitress. Simon and the man positioned themselves on either side of her hips, and each took a thigh. Cradling her upper legs, they opened her in readiness. She was now in a man-made version of the swing she’d seen before, except with hands holding her thighs instead of leather and chains. Anna wondered why Peter wasn’t getting ready to fuck her, but he seemed disinterested. Leaning against one of the glass panels, he was tinkering with something; her camera. Wide-eyed, Anna watched as the blonde dropped her mini-skirt and put on her own leather thong. The difference was, this one had a smooth, curved dildo rearing from the triangle that covered her pubic hair.
The phallus was long, but it was rubber; Anna craved real flesh and hot skin sliding against hers. ‘Peter,’ she whimpered. ‘Won’t you fuck me, please…?’
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’ve had a drink.’
Anna squirmed with frustration, making the ropes swing as she pulled on them. ‘Let Simon, then. Or someone else. I need a man,’ she whined.
Peter shook his head. ‘Impossible, I’m afraid. Everyone here has had a drink apart from Louise. Don’t worry, that thing she’s wearing will satisfy you, I promise.’
Anna met Louise’s eyes. ‘What’s so special about that drink?’ she asked, as the woman and her fake penis loomed nearer.
‘It heightens the senses,’ Louise explained, slipping her hands around Anna’s hips. ‘It sends you into a state of virtual reality. Whatever you look at, you experience it as if it’s happening to you. That’s why we drink it in here. That’s why they can only touch you for a little while. They want to, but it’s too much for the brain to take. It’s like sensory overload. If you tried to screw someone while you were under the influence, you’d pass out with the pleasure.’
‘What’s the point of taking it then?’
Peter came up behind Louise and rested his hand on her waist, watching over her shoulder as the dildo nudged at Anna’s pouting sex lips. ‘Louise just told you why we take it. We don’t come into this room to screw, Anna. We come here to watch, and to open our minds.’ He put the camcorder to his eye, and slowly raised his head. ‘And now, we’re going to open your mind.’
Anna threw her head back as Louise plunged inside her. Peter was right; it did satisfy her. With a dildo in each hole, ecstasy throbbed in the pit of her stomach and made her eyelids flutter. Just like in the scene she’d observed through the hatch, Louise stood still, allowing the men to swing Anna back and forth. Her fettered hands gripped the ropes suspending her from the ceiling. Looking up, she saw the pulleys swinging as she was eased on and off the phallus. Her breasts swelled and her hard nipples ached for pain. Four people — Louise, Anna and her two attendant men — were united in their aim and steady in their rhythm.
Peter moved to his own rhythm, his body dipping and leaning as he swooped in close with the camera. Anna looked b
‘Keep it on her eyes,’ he instructed, passing the silver box to Louise. ‘I want to be able to see the moment her mind opens.’
Anna turned her head, straining to look over her shoulder as he circled her. But he pushed her face back towards the camera, and she was left to guess what he was up to as he unfastened the thong. She was surprised, and disappointed, when the short plug was pulled out of her anus. A moment later, while busy fingers worked something warm and oily into her puckered rim, she realised the anal dildo had been there only to stretch her; to prepare her for a real invasion.
Everyone was motionless. The two men flanking Anna held her still. Their heads were bowed, their eyes fixed to the point behind her back, where a much bigger dildo than the first prodded for entry. ‘No,’ she groaned, her voice crushed by the feeling of her most sensitive skin being stretched. ‘Let me go,’ she gasped, but they knew as well as she did that she didn’t mean it. She wanted every hole filled, and every sense bombarded.
She got what she wanted. As the rubber cock was buried into her grasping anus, the real assault began. Up until now, Simon and his accomplice had been swinging her slowly, and Louise’s dildo had only been entering her halfway. Now they kept her still in the vice of their fingers. One of Louise’s hands held the camera, while the other grabbed on to Anna’s hip to steady herself. Knowing what Anna needed, Louise thrust her hips ferociously, slamming the phallus in up to its root. Now Anna got the full effect. Attached to the base of the dildo was a disc covered with tiny, rigid rubber fingers. Every time Louise slammed between Anna’s legs, the fingers pressed against her burning clit. The sensation was different with every thrust. Sometimes the little protrusions rubbed her, and the friction would sear her tender skin. Occasionally, one of the minute pointing fingers poked deep into some magical, white-hot place, and sent her whole body twitching.
by Zoe Le Verdier have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes