Locks and Clues

I draw little circles around it, leaning back against the podium. My legs are crossed and I'm constantly afraid of sticking out and being seen. I hear the swimmers getting closer and I can't hold a moan. I hope they got water in their ears.

I grab my breast and softly squeeze my nipple as my other hand picks up the pace and my mind clouds up. My breathing gets faster and my belly warms up. I think about Luke listening to me. I moan for him. I think about him masturbating to the sounds I make.

"I'm coming!" I whisper, and I do. All the warmth explodes and ripples of pleasure shake my body. It's really hard not to stick out of the podium but somehow I do. Or the swimmers are facing away. I don't know, and I don't care.

I've done it. I've really done it. For a second, I feel like this ordeal is finally over.

Far from it.

The voice in my ear comes back and says: "Slut."

But I'm too tired to reply.

The voice says: "Well, you've earned the next number. It's a-"

And static covers it up. It could be a three, or a six, or a tree.

"Wait," I say, panting, "I didn't catch that!"

"The last number is easy. It's in the locker room. See you there."

Back to static. It said, "see you there". Will Luke finally reveal himself as my prankster? I collect myself -- what little is left, and I look at the swimmers. One of them is climbing up the ladder! But I don't care who sees me anymore. Besides, my back will be turned to them and I'll be in the changing room before they realize it.

I get up and run, and I almost slip into the pool. I scream, and they notice me. I cover up my face and I can't make up what they're saying, apart from whistles and cat calls.

Back in the corridor. The janitor is gone, and I run as fast as I can on the wet floor, all the way to the ladies' locker room. I close the door behind me and lean against it to catch my breath. When I finally do, and my heart goes quiet, I hear a faint kissing sound coming from beyond the locker wall.

Slowly, I walk around towards it, and when I see them I gasp.

The janitor is sitting on a bench, naked. The ugly receptionist girl, wearing nothing from the waist down, is going down on him in a sloppy blowjob. My eyes linger just a second too much and I notice he's very well endowed. Almost unnaturally so.

The janitor looks at me and says: "Hi!"

I turn to escape, and the girl says: "If you run, you'll never get the last digit!"

I freeze. "What? Are you the one...?"

"Yes," she says, one hand still masturbating that enormous penis, "I'm the one who's been talking you through the night. This is your last task. To get the final digit, you must have sex with us. A nice little threesome!"

I instinctively bare my teeth and wrinkle my nose. "No," I say, "that's too much. You're sick. This is..."

The janitor points at me, facing his girlfriend: "Hey!" he says, "ye said she'd be up fer it!"

The receptionist chuckles. "Don't worry, hon," she says. She produces a small tablet out of nowhere, and fingers a few commands on it. Then, she turns it towards me, and I see myself masturbating behind the podium.

She smiles. "Hidden camera," she says, "also, I have surveillance camera footage of this whole crazy night. Isn't that fun?"

I can't stop staring at myself in the tablet. My hands over my mouth, I can just barely say: "What do you want?"

"A threesome!" she replies, "or this whole thing goes online!"

She walks up to me and puts her hands on my cheeks. I pull away, and she gets closer and holds me harder. "Play nice," she says, "it's for the best."

She sits on a bench, guiding me by the head, spreads her legs and pulls me towards her hairy pussy. I try to resist and she says, "Do it, or it goes online. I mean it, you slut. All I have to do is push a button and your life is over."

Tears streaming down my cheeks, I bend over and sink into her disgusting mess of pubic hair. "Come on," she says, "work that tongue, you whore!"

I manage to find her clitoris. I shut my eyes and suck on it, ignoring the taste as much as I can. At the same time, sweaty hands grab my waist. I reach back to slap them away, but he catches my wrists and pulls me back into him.

I scream as his monster dick forces its way into me. The receptionist grabs my head and pushes me back into her pussy. The janitor sinks deeper and deeper, stretching me wide open, and there seems to be no end to him. He gets to the bottom of me, hits my cervix, and I come instantly.

I scream into the receptionist's pussy as mine involuntarily clutches and spasms around the monster cock. The janitor moans loud, pulls me even closer and says:

"Damn, hon, she's tight!"

She pushes me down with one hand and grabs one of my breasts with the other. She pinches my nipple and twists it painfully; I want to pull away but I can't. She says:

"Look at that. This slut already came. You're in for a long night, Vanessa. My boyfriend here can ride me for *hours* before coming, and trust me, this threesome isn't over until he empties his balls in or on you."

I want to speak, I want to beg them to let me go, but the janitor starts fucking me and my brain turns to jello. He fills me up completely, and stretches me some; he hammers into me non-stop, and I hang onto him like a tight, hot, wet glove.

"Look at you," the receptionist says, "taking dick like the nice little whore you are. How could you ever think a great guy like Luke could ever want you? He needs a real woman, not some slutty cock-monger like you!"

Luke? Is he what this is all about? She lets go of my head to torment both my nipples. In between the pain and the pleasure, my breath is a hurried mess of pants and moans. I gather up all my strength just to say:

"You're... too much... of an ugly bitch... for Luke."

"What did you just say?!" the receptionist erupts. She pulls hard at my nipples, and I cry in pain. "What do you know?! You're just a slut! You can't get between me and Luke!"

"Who the fuck is Luke?" the janitor says, still fucking me.

The receptionist blushes. She says: "Nobody," and pulls me back in between her legs, but her boyfriend won't let her. The janitor steps back, taking me with him. He straightens me up and, still fucking me, pulls my ear to his mouth and says:

"Who, the fuck, is Luke?"

"A guy... from the gym... I think... I think... she likes him," I manage to say.

The janitor pulls out of me and I fall down, doubled over in pain. He looms over his girlfriend, blocking her escape.

"Did ye cheat on me," he asks, "with this Luke faggot?"

The receptionist shakes her head, but she's too terrified to speak. The janitor grabs her and flips her over.

"Cheating bitches," the janitor says, "get it up the ass."

"No, please," she begs, "you know I don't like it in my..." her sentence ends in a silent scream as he forces his way inside her. She looks at me with tearful, begging eyes; thankfully, I can only imagine the kind of pain she's in.

I want to help her. But first, I point at the lock. She understands, and mouths me a number that could be nine, or five, or hi.

I work the tumblers with shaking hands, with her cries of pain and her boyfriend's insults in the background.

Seven -- three -- five. Nope.

One -- six -- nine. Nope.

It takes me a while, and her cries get louder and louder, as do his insults. Finally, as I input Seven -- six -- five and the padlock opens, the locker room door bursts open and a strong male voice yells:

"What the hell is going on in here?!"

It's Luke.

Later on, after Luke has pacified the janitor and I've gotten dressed, as we wait for the police with the loving couple locked up in the sauna, Luke and I finally get a chance to talk. I tell him about some of the night, sparing the most humiliating details, and I find myself strangely calm about it all.

I thought something like this would leave me traumatized, but somehow it hasn't. Perhaps it's his presence. Perhaps I'm stronger than I thought. Perhaps I got lucky.

"I thought you'd left," I tell him, "why were you still around?"

"Well," he says, "actually, I..." he looks off into the distance and I shoot him a puzzled look.

I hold his hand and he smiles at me.

"I always wait for you outside," he tells me, "today, you weren't coming, so I got worried, and... you know the rest."

I smile at him. "Why were you waiting for me?"

"To ask you, if you'd like to go out sometime."

END