Gotcha Ch. 08

It was the last day of the West Coast trip and the schedule had been kept deliberately light. Wendy and Jen sat in the hotel suite working away at their laptops, catching up on e-mails, when the phone rang. Wendy reached across and punched the button that turned on the speaker-phone facility.

"Ms McCuskell, it's Donnelly here." Mr Donnelly's firm voice rang out.

"Ah, Mr Donnelly, how can I help?" Wendy asked.

"I need a favour; I'd like to borrow your assistant," Mr Donnelly replied.

"And by 'borrow' I assume you're not referring to her typing skills," Wendy countered.

"Look, I won't beat around the bush. I'm meeting Williams from AB Supplies this afternoon. I need to get a pretty good deal from him so as to make a profit on the deal you got from me the other day, and your girl is just the thing to act as a sweetener."

"But Mr Donnelly," Wendy interjected, "my assistant is a valued and respected member of my team and not just some cheap whore for you to use as and when it suits you and, talking of cheap whores, surely a man of your resources would have other... err.. suppliers."

"Yeah, if a cheap whore was what I wanted I'd have no problems at all but Williams likes a bit of class and is a complete sucker for that British accent. That's not so easy to find at short notice; I did have a girl lined up but it all went south at the last moment. Look, I appreciate that I'm asking a favour and not offering anything in return so here's the deal. You name any three major players out here on the West Coast and I'll send over my private files on them; I borrow your girl, you get the inside dirt; is that Ok?"

Jen had been watching Wendy all the time and, as soon as Mr Donnelly had mentioned the private files, she had seen her eyes light up. Jen was fast learning that information was power and she could see that Wendy was eager to get her hands on the files so when Wendy looked up and their eyes met Jen shrugged as if to say 'why not'. It wasn't as if she really had any say in the matter; it would be Wendy's decision whether she went or not but she was pleased to be consulted and pleased with the way that Wendy had described her as 'not some cheap whore'. If this did end up with Wendy getting valuable information it would be a feather in her cap and, to tell the truth, she wasn't totally averse to seeing what Mr Donnelly and this Mr Williams had in store for her.

"Ok," Wendy agreed at last. "But here are the rules. We're flying out tonight so you have to get her back here by five at the latest. I want her back and I want her back in one piece. You and your friend can use her anyway you want but remember, she's not a whore, you're not to damage her and you've got to use condoms; I don't want her pregnant and I don't want any nasty diseases. As for the files, that's a nice trade but don't fuck me over; if I find you've sold me a crock of shit you'll regret it. Understood?"

"Hey, understood," Mr Donnelly replied. "You're helping me out and I appreciate that; you'll find I'm not ungrateful. Can I send a car over around noon. My driver will make sure she arrives in one piece and, when she gets here I'll be looking after her. I can drop her back to the hotel or straight to LAX, whichever you would prefer."

"Back here for five would be best. I'll make sure she's ready to leave by midday."

"Thanks again, Ms McCuskell. I really appreciate your help. I'll talk to you later." Mr Donnelly rang off.

At half past eleven Jen went to get ready. She had a long shower, using a suitably perfumed shower gel and then fixed her hair and make up going for a quietly understated look. Then she went to the wardrobe to select an outfit. It wasn't as if she had a very wide choice; apart from the dress she was due to wear for travelling all her outfits were formal and business like but maybe that would fit with the requirements. Mr Donnelly had spoken of Mr Williams liking a bit of class and the respectable businesswoman look would fit the bill. Once dressed she returned to the bathroom and, selecting the lubricant used when fitting her tail, applied a generous dose to her anus.

It was just gone twelve when the phone rang and the front desk informed Wendy that there was a car waiting for her assistant. Wendy took Jen down to the lobby where a thick set man wearing a uniform was waiting by the desk. As soon as he saw them he came over.

"I need her back by five and don't lose her. I hope you, and your boss, understand that." Wendy told the driver.

"Certainly Ma'am," he replied, "Mr Donnelly was most clear on that point."

The driver took Jen by the elbow and led her outside to where the car was waiting.

As the car sped through the Californian sunshine Jen wondered to herself why she had acquiesced quite so quickly. Mostly it was to stay in Wendy's good books. Life was always easier if she made it easy for Wendy and, by accepting this, she had put Mr Donnelly in Wendy's debt. Partially it was about freedom; although she was far from free in any real sense of the word, she was acting independently from Wendy for the first time since she had been captured, and that brought its own thrill. Partially it was something rather darker. She remembered how it had felt when Mr Donnelly had sodomised her over his desk and the very thought made her tingle. She wondered if Mr Williams would want to use her the same way and if he would have better staying power. Even thinking about it caused delicious tingles from her well-lubricated butt.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a private golf course. The gates opened automatically as the car approached and they sped up the drive to the clubhouse. Once he had parked, the driver used his mobile phone to check exactly where Mr Donnelly was before leading Jen to a golf cart and heading out onto the course. There were very few other players around as they trundled across the manicured greens and fairways; the club evidently catering to those who valued privacy. They caught up with Mr Donnelly at the fifth tee which was deep in the countryside and well out of sight from the clubhouse.

As Jen approached the party it was pretty easy to work out who was who. Mr Donnelly she already knew, so the other golfer must be Mr Williams. Each was accompanied by a caddy, but Jen could see that they were more likely private secretaries than true caddies and were more used to carrying briefcases than golf clubs. Mr Williams' eyes lit up as she approached.

Jen remembered Mr Donnelly's requirements. She had to have a touch of class and be an English rose. Whilst she would have to flirt with Mr Williams she would not make it too obvious; she was not, repeat not, a cheap whore. On the other hand she wondered if he already knew how available she was or whether she would have to let him know. With a sense of 'here we go' she put on her best upper class accent and went over to the group.

"Mr Williams, I'm delighted to meet you," she said. "Mr Donnelly has told me so much about you."

"And what brings a pretty little English girl all the way out here?" Mr Williams asked.

"Oh, I'm working for Mr Donnelly in a personal capacity." Jen replied.

"I'm sure you are." Mr Williams leered at her. Whilst they watched Mr Donnelly line up his shot Mr Williams kept up the conversational banter. Jen treading the fine line that ensured that Mr Williams knew she was available whilst still maintaining her style and poise. A few white lies about meeting the royals at polo matches helped things along and she kept her accent as Sloane Ranger as possible. When both tee shots were completed the party set off down the fairway and she travelled in Mr Williams' golf cart, making sure she was practically sitting on his lap; a growing bulge in his trousers showed that she was getting through.

Two shots later, when they reached the green, Mr Williams was losing any subtlety he might have had and was asking more and more direct questions about Jen's role with Mr Donnelly. Jen kept her responses vague with lots of hints about stress relief. By now it wasn't just the bulge in his trousers that gave Mr Williams away, he completely missed a two foot put sending the ball skidding across the green.

"It looks like your mind is more on my assistant than on your game." Mr Donnelly joked. "Carry on like this and I'll beat the pants off you. Why don't you let her get rid of your stress before the next hole? Personally I'd take her up the butt; she's got the cutest little ass on her."

"I don't mind if I do," Mr Williams replied and he grabbed Jen by the elbow. He glanced around before heading for the golf cart and roughly pushed her forward over the seats. Jen's skirt was flipped up and her legs pushed apart. Suddenly Jen was seeing a different side to his character, any chivalry was gone and he was pushing her around like he owned her.

"I see what you mean about her ass!" Mr Williams called out and moments later Jen felt the tip of his prick pushing against her sphincter. The lubrication she had applied earlier helped Mr Williams ease past the initial tightness and in no time Jen was feeling that wonderful feeling of fullness, of being opened and stretched. She reached forward and grabbed random bits of the golf cart so she could push back, encouraging him to push deeper.

"God, you're loving this, aren't you?" groaned Mr Williams as he slid back and forth, using his whole length inside her.

"Yes, Sir," Jen replied.

"Yes, what?" Mr Williams demanded.

"Yes, please, Sir. Please fuck my arse, Sir, please, Sir, as hard as you can, Sir," Jen replied. This served to spur Mr Williams on, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, deeper. "Oooh, that feels so good, Sir, please fuck me harder."

Judging by his furious pumping, Jen's dirty talk was just what Mr Williams wanted and it wasn't hard to fake. Whilst the excuse was that she was playing Mata Hari, that she was doing this so that Wendy got her inside information, the truth was that her body thrilled to this rough treatment and, when, with a deep animal roar, Mr Williams climaxed and slumped over her, she was secretly disappointed that he had finished so soon.

However, when Mr Williams pulled himself off her and she started to get up a hand in the middle of her back pushed her firmly back down again.

"What about you, Donnelly?" Mr Williams asked. "Do you fancy a bit?"

With a start Jen realised that she had let herself in for far more than she had originally thought; it wasn't just Mr Williams who was going to use her, they were all lining up and her abuse had only just begun. Mr Donnelly took his place behind her and she once again felt his girth filling her anal tract. Even with the additional lubricant from the condom she was being stretched to the limit of endurance and pain was rapidly overtaking pleasure. When Mr Donnelly had finished there was barely a pause before Mr Williams' secretary took his turn, this time using her pussy and getting a laugh when he commented how juicy she was. Meanwhile, before he had finished, her head was lifted from the seat and a prick brutally shoved in her mouth. Part of her, most of her, wanted to shout 'stop'; this had gone far beyond what she had agreed to but she knew it was pointless, they wouldn't stop and she'd be letting Wendy down. What had started as a role play had become painfully real and any sense of pleasure, of satisfaction, of anything other than abuse was gone as she was effectively gang raped by the five men. What is more, increasingly she was unable to tell who it was that was using her. She had lost count but surely she had been penetrated more than five times, it would seem that they were coming round for seconds, or maybe even thirds. Her poor arse and pussy were so abused and sore that they had become twin tunnels of fire, and, with her mouth full of the taste of spermicide from the condoms, all she could do was hang on as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

And then at last it was over, she hung like a rag doll, still flopped over the golf cart, unable to move, unable to stand. Vaguely she was aware of Mr Donnelly and Mr Williams laughing as they zipped themselves up and got back to their game. It would seem that, having been used, she was now discarded, no longer required, forgotten. Gently the driver helped her to her feet, smoothed her down and sat her back on the golf cart. Without a word he got in beside her and drove back to the car.

As they drove back to the hotel Jen huddled in the corner of the back seat, mentally licking her wounds, trying to ignore the searing pain, which still came from her nether regions. The contrast was striking; how different the coarse brutality of the men from the sensuous subtlety of Wendy or Mistress Tanya. At the end of the day she had been nothing, of no consequence, an object to be used and then discarded. Wendy at her worst, at her most brutal, had always dealt woman to woman and, even when Jen had been objectified, whilst wearing the hood, for example, there was an underlying humanity, a sense that she cared. When at last they arrived Jen tried to straighten herself out but, with no handbag, she had neither hairbrush nor make-up so she was forced to enter the hotel with her hair in disarray and her tear stained face streaked with mascara.

The driver took Jen to the front desk where they called Wendy who came down to the lobby. She took one look at Jen and with a curt 'thank you' to the driver she took her back up to the room.

"Was it bad?" Wendy asked, her face full of concern, as soon as they entered the lift to ride back to their floor.

"It was... It was..." Jen started but the words wouldn't come, tears filled her eyes, she couldn't take any more.

"Shush... Shush... Shush..." Wendy took Jen in her arms and held her close. With her arm still around her she led Jen back to the room and they sat down on a sofa together. Gradually, bit by bit, Wendy got the story from Jen. How Jen had played her part to the full, leading Mr Williams on and offering herself to him when the time came. However, as Jen described how it had turned into a gang rape, how it had gone far beyond what either woman had envisaged, she could feel Wendy stiffening, feel the anger growing within her. When Jen had finished Wendy got up and went over to the phone, once again using it in speaker mode.

"Donnelly," she said once the connection was made. "I hope you're bloody well satisfied."

"What's up?" Mr Donnelly sounded genuinely perplexed.

"You know very well what's up. I lend you my assistant and you go far, far beyond what we agreed." Wendy's anger was evident.

"Ok, Ok, I'm sorry, but hey, we just had a bit of fun. Look, you said we could use her any way we wanted; I'm sorry if we went too far."

"Too far! The idea was that she should be a sweetener for this Williams fellow, not that she should be gang raped by all and sundry; I would never have agreed to that and well you know it. Furthermore, as far as I'm concerned it's not just me you should be apologising to." Wendy's could barely contain her anger.

"What, you expect me to apologise to your little tart, to apologise for treating her like the trash she is?" Mr Donnelly sounded amazed.

"Too damn right, I do." Wendy's anger was in full flow now. "My assistant means a great deal to me. She is not a tart, she is not trash, and she certainly did not deserve to be treated that way. You owe her an apology and you owe me big time."

"Look, I said I'm sorry, I'm sorry to you and, Ok, I'm sorry to your assistant. I really didn't know you felt that way, and, Ok, I owe you. The Williams deal came through and I'll make sure you get what you want. I can't say fairer than that."

"Ok, apology accepted but don't mess with me, Donnelly, do you understand?" Wendy replied grudgingly.

"Yeah, message received." Mr. Donnelly sounded contrite, and so he should Jen thought to herself.

Wendy put the phone down and went back to Jen on the sofa and gave her a long hug before suggesting that a hot soak in the tub might help. Jen was already recovering fast; the physical pains were being offset by the discovery, no, the revelation, of just how strongly Wendy felt about her.

Jen was feeling a lot better by the time trixie arrived to take them to LAX. As ever, they were traveling light with the bulk of their luggage being sent separately. When they got to the security check-in Jen remembered the embarrassment of Heathrow and, finding a suitable security guard, went and explained her position. This time, whilst the examination was equally thorough, it was done in a totally matter-of-fact fashion and in no time Jen was through, rejoining Wendy in the first class lounge.

The flight itself was half empty and Wendy and Jen had plenty of privacy when, once the cabin lights had been dimmed, they reclined their seats turning them into beds so as to get some sleep as the plane headed back home over the Arctic. However, rather than a simple catnap, Wendy had other ideas to pass the hours. She reached down for her bag and fetched out some plastic cable ties. She then leant over and in moments Jen's wrists were fastened to the armrests.

"That's better." Wendy whispered. "Now we can have some fun. You like being tied up, don't you?"

"Yes, please, Mistress." And Jen was not making it up just to please Wendy. As she had felt her wrists being bound she had relaxed back into a state of acceptance, awaiting whatever Wendy had in store for her. She trusted Wendy, trusted her completely. What ever was coming would be done by someone who cared for her, well, who cared for her well-being.

Wendy arranged a blanket over Jen and, as far as the seating would allow, got in close. Jen felt Wendy's hands straying over her body, a light, sensitive touch that tingled, just the right side of tickling. As ever Jen's minimal clothing presented no real barrier and Wendy roamed freely across her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, anywhere she could reach except, and it was a big exception, except her groin.

More and more Jen wanted that touch. Wendy's teasing had fully awoken her senses and there was a growing heat in her groin, a heat that demanded satisfaction.

"Please, Mistress." Jen whimpered as Wendy's fingers strayed across her lower stomach, getting so close before veering off again.

"What's up little one?" Wendy replied. "I thought you would be far too battered and bruised. Maybe it would be best of I left you alone."

"No!" Jen blurted out. "Sorry, Mistress. I mean please don't leave me. I need to feel your touch. I need you, Mistress."

"Settle down," Wendy admonished. "You don't want to wake the other passengers. Is this what you want?"

Jen felt Wendy's fingers brushing against her labia and couldn't prevent a groan of pleasure.

"Yes, please, Mistress."

"Well, ask nicely then." Wendy's fingers were playing in the short hairs that covered Jen's pubic mound, tantalisingly close but achingly far.

"Please, Mistress, I beg you to be kind to your pet. I need you so badly; haven't I been good? Haven't I worked so hard? Please, you know you can do anything you want to me, I'm yours, completely yours. Please be kind; please may I come?"

"Very pretty, little piglet, very pretty indeed." Wendy leaned across and, as their lips met in a passionate kiss her hand reached down and took Jen firmly, insistently. Jen's wrists may have been tied but her hips were free and she responded by grinding herself urgently against the pressure of Wendy's palm.

"Careful, piglet." Wendy broke the kiss to rebuke Jen. "I told you before, don't wake the other passengers. Now lie still or I'll stop."

Wendy returned to her teasing and Jen was left with the almost impossible task of lying still and quiet as she did so. Wendy was a skilled lover and time and time again she took Jen to the edge, always denying her release, always leaving her short until, inevitably, the dam burst, the explosion happened and Jen lost control, thrashing about and moaning audibly. She had barely recovered when the air steward arrived, asking if she were Ok. Jen was glad Wendy had readjusted the blanket so her wrists were covered once again. Jen, still panting from the exertion, made up some story about having woken from a vivid dream. Maybe the steward believed her, maybe she didn't.