More Fool Me

"I think the washing up can wait 'til later." Fran reached around Missy and cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her top, pushing them up so they nearly popped out through the opening in her shirt. Not able to hold back, Missy spun in lover's arms, only to have Fran slide down her front and begin with the button on her jeans, her mouth hungry and kissing along the inside of her hip.

"Bedroom, I think, yeah?" Missy insisted, dragging Fran with her as they made their way down the passage. Fran's efforts to rid Missy of her pants finally succeeded as they reached the bed. Everything came off at once, jeans, panties and socks, ending up in a pile against the opposite wall, Fran tossing them in a gesture to imitate her appetite.

"I'm going to eat you alive." Fran settled between her lover's thighs, her lips and tongue finding their target easily without the hair that until a day before had covered her amply. Missy moaned in satisfaction as Fran sucked her clitoris into her mouth, nibbling at its engorged length with her teeth, ever so gently.

Missy pulled off her top, not wanting anything to come between them, even though Fran was still fully clothed. She would remedy that soon enough. "Slower, please, you're going to make me come."

"That is the general idea."

"Yes, but not so quick. Take your clothes off." Missy insisted.

Not wanting to stop, Missy had to push Fran back to force her lover to comply. Once they both were naked, it was an all-out scramble to determine which was going to be pleased first. Fran tasted wonderful as Missy dove between her legs, sucking in her clit for all she was worth. Fran groaned from the attention but yearned to be back between Missy's thighs. Eventually they turned about so each was pleasing the other, Fran enjoying her lover's freshly shaven sex, and Missy buried in the thick curls that she had come to know as home.

Would anyone have walked in at that moment they would have thought someone was being throttled in the bedroom, such were the noises they were making. A few meters away, Missy's computer was signaling incoming data. Neither of them heard the insistent pinging, until Fran rolled off her lover and her sharp ears caught the alarm.

"Is there an alarm going off or something?" Fran panted, trying to catch her breath as the two lay face up on bed, soaked in each other's juice and sweat.

Missy sat up. "Or something. Come on." Both naked, she pulled Fran along with her as she sat down in front of her notebook. "Now, we can either task it to record whenever there's movement, or only when we decide."

"Can we see what's going on?" Fran asked excitedly.

Missy clicked a few buttons with her mouse, and three small images appeared. Clicking on the one with obvious movement, it went full screen. They both giggled as Samantha came into view, completely oblivious to their presence. "You can come back now." Samantha called to the other room.

"Oh, there's sound as well." Fran bubbled.

"Of course. Wouldn't be half the fun without hearing what's going on, yeah?" Missy turned up the volume slightly as a large man of color came into the bedroom. They both gasped at once. "Jesus, this ought to be spectacular." Missy chortled.

Samantha already had the man's shirt off and was busy sucking on his nipples as he lifted her off the floor and laid her back on the bed. He basically ripped off everything she was wearing, the sound of fabric giving way drowned out by Samantha's objections. "Shut up, bitch. You wanted it rough, so here it is, then." He tore the remains of her outfit out from under her, and unzipped his jeans allowing a massive cock to spring out.

"Jesus H—" Fran was interrupted, amusingly.

"Christ!" Samantha gasped, as she reached out to take the member in her hands, barely able to get her fingers around it girth. Samantha opened her mouth and took the bell end in, stretching her lips grotesquely around it as she worked it in and out.

"Oh, man. Can we zoom in?" Fran asked, amazed.

"Not now. We can edit later. Shhh." Missy hushed her.

"God, you can't put that inside me. I'd split wide open." Samantha gurgled around her attempts to blow the man's cock.

"You're having me on, if you think I'm not giving this a good stretch." He had his fingers buried in Samantha's drooling cunt, working them in and out as if to prepare her for the inevitable.

"I'll never be the same, fuck." Samantha complained, whining ever so slightly.

"If you mean you'll never be satisfied by a white dick again, you're spot on, bitch." He laughed, pushing the monster deeper down Samantha's throat until she gagged.

Fran and Missy looked on with amusement as the large black man grabbed Samantha by the back of the head and began using her as a tool. It was frightening to watch, partially because they were both lesbian, neither having had relations with a man, and partially because even in hetero circles, the treatment that Samantha was getting would have been considered brutal.

Every once in a while, the man would withdraw his cock from Samantha's mouth, which sent her gagged and spluttering, gasping for breath. Missy suddenly had a thought. "I wonder if Rod Taylor arranged this?" She said out loud. "Maybe Samantha had said something that would lead him to believe she was inclined to enjoy men of color."

"Well. You know him. What do you reckon?" Fran asked, never really taking her eyes off the screen. "Here we go, Mis. Moment of truth, yeah?"

The man had roughly pulled Samantha down the bed, having obviously tired of her efforts to suck him off. There was some whimpering from her, but nothing resembling a 'no'. He spit into his hand and coated the tip of his rod with his own spit, and then ran the knob up and down her slit.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, Jesus Christ, just put in!" Samantha roared.

"My pleasure, darling." And with that he thrust his overly large member deep into her, eliciting a scream that must have had the neighbors running for their telephones. Missy switched cameras quickly, which afforded the two a better view of the reaming. Samantha's labia were stretched paper thin around the shaft, and with each thrust, a guttural moan forced its way through her clenched teeth.

Samantha's eyes were wide, and she would lean up to watch as the massive cock disappeared inside her. Then she would give in, flopping back onto the bed, writhing in ecstasy. This went on for a good ten minutes, during which time, Missy and Fran debated how many orgasms she had burned through. A sudden change in tempo signaled that he was ready to come, and before long he was flying in and out of her like a piston on a locomotive. Samantha was delirious at this point, but he simply ignored the fact that she was flopping around on the end of his stick like a rag doll.

With one huge push, he punched deeper than he had all night, burying the monster to hilt and pumping his undoubtedly potent seed into her womb. He stayed there for a few moments, allowing his cock to soften just a bit before pulling out.

The amount of cum that leaked out of Samantha's gaping slot was torrential. Missy swore it would have filled a shot glass three times over. Samantha's pussy was indeed ruined by the look of it, and it made no attempt to close after the man pulled away, mimicking the shape of his shaft in reverse.

He made no attempt to rouse her, instead grabbing his clothes and heading for the bath. Missy and Fran completely forgot about the cameras in the bath, but then the show was over in any event. Samantha hadn't moved a muscle as the man, now fully dressed swung by on his way out. "Sort yourself, you wonky whore." A few seconds later a door closed, and they both assumed that the large black man had let himself out.

Missy thought about turning off the camera, but her attention was drawn to Samantha and her unmoving form still splayed over the bed. "I think he's killed her."

"Nah, I can see her breathing. Don't be so daft." Fran assured her, leaning in closer to the screen. "See." Pointing with her finger to Samantha's ribcage.

"See what, Fran? I don't see a bloody thing." Missy seemed panicked. "I think he's killed her, Fran. What if we—"

"Stop your ranting, look." Missy was drawn back to the screen as Samantha slowly sat up, pushing her hair back from her face and moaned.

"Jesus, mother of god. What the hell happened?" Wincing, Samantha reached between her legs. "Ahhh! No!" She screamed, seeming to be searching for something between her thighs.

"Lose something, darling?" Fran seethed. "Maybe you lost that nice tight pussy of yours, yeah?" Laughing, she wandered into the kitchen, seeming to lose interest.

Missy switched off the camera and followed her lover, who was just polishing off a large glass of orange juice. Fran turned, setting the glass in the basin. "If that Rod friend of yours is responsible for this, I have to say, my opinion of him has improved."

"I can't imagine him having anything at all to do with this, but whatever the case, we have what we wanted, yes?" Missy raised an eyebrow.

"And then some, love. And then some."

Chapter Six

Samantha eased herself into her panties and readied herself for the day. It was Monday already and it had taken all weekend to recover from her brutal encounter with the mysterious black man. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the liaison, the sex was absolutely mind-blowing. The aftereffects were, less enjoyable.

Her ankles and thighs had bruises, hand prints from rough play, that she in fact had asked for in the pub. Rod had left, after it became obvious that she was taken by the tall dark man. She couldn't blame him, really. She had ignored him practically the entire evening. Why he continued to hang about for as long as he did was a mystery.

It was odd that Rod himself had introduced them, only to be usurped by him. Poor Rod, always losing out. Right then, she was the only one losing out. The ache between her thighs had persisted since Friday night, when it kept her from sleeping. She had considered calling her GP, but then what would she say? "I've just had the most amazing shag, but it's left all stretched out and sore?" Samantha sighed, verbally. She'd think I've lost the plot.

Sitting was the most amazingly uncomfortable affair, and it was as though she could feel the soft swollen cooze between her legs, pressing painfully against the seat. The motherfucker really has ruined me, she thought, as she stood at her workstation.

Much to Samantha's dismay, Missy had arrived to the office that morning, sporting a lovely wig, that perfectly matched her style from before her bout with the clippers. No one would be the wiser, and her plan to humiliate her even further was foiled. She did however have one last task for her, and it was by far the most devious and degrading.

MAPhillips

Subject: Task #5 (Almost done)

Well done Ms. Phillips, although your attempt to cover up your new hairstyle

is annoying. Effective, but annoying. I so looked forward to seeing you, sans

tresses, if you will; explaining to everyone why you chose to shave your head.

Your ringing in Friday was a coward's way out, but I'll soon have you

forgetting all of that with your next task. I'm assumed by your wearing a

pantsuit that you've either abandoned my decree for no undergarments, or

decided to cover the fact that you are still abiding by it. In any event, it will

all be overshadowed Friday, at the pub. 6 pm.

Sincerely,

Your Tormentor

*

Missy read the email, the fear of exposure no longer a valid threat now that she had the video of Samantha. She was fully expecting the fifth task, but now, seeing it before her, she no longer felt compelled to honor it.

The more she thought about it, however, meeting at a pub full of people, some of them undoubtedly coworkers, would be the perfect venue to turn the tables on Samantha. She would most certainly try and humiliate her there through some stunt that would invariably involve her exposing herself in some fashion.

Rod Taylor had been avoiding Missy for most of the day, but she finally caught up with him in hallway as she headed for home. "Rod, can we have word?" Missy asked, discretely. The rather thin and generally unattractive man conceded, following her into a small conference room.

"Did you get what you needed?" He asked, unassumingly.

"Yeah. We most certainly did. Thank you for helping me." Missy said.

"You look good. You'd never know, right?" Indicating her wig. The day after the salon incident, she had shared with him what had happened that week, including allowing him to see her without hair. It was shock for him, as he obviously was attracted to her before.

"Yeah. Looks good, for now. Once my hair grows to what would be an acceptable length, I'll lose the wig, and say I had it all chopped off." Missy paused for a beat. "Rod? Did you by any chance have anything to do with Samantha meeting up with a rather large black man?"

"You liked that, did you?" Rod smiled wryly. "He's a mate from school. In spite of his appearance, he's a rather intelligent bloke. Aerospace engineer, you know. Lockheed."

Missy raised an eyebrow. "I fully intended to blur out his face from the video anyway, but Jesus. Aerospace? Fuck me."

"I'm sure he would appreciate that. He always bragged about his size, but when I saw him in the showers one day, I was shocked." Rod chortled. "He's hung like a fucking bull"

Feeling a bit uncomfortable about the direction the conversation was taking, Missy made her excuses and headed home.

"Friday, then." Fran concluded, viewing the video as Missy edited.

"Yeah. She's got something up her sleeve." Sam continued to follow the man's face with the cursor, creating a circumferential blur. "You believe this geezer is an Aerospace Engineer?"

"Hey. Never judge a book by its cover." Fran insisted. "My mum always told me." She ran a hand over Missy's head, eliciting a response.

"I have to admit. As much as the look is but of a shock, I do love the way it feels." Missy keened, pushing against Fran's hand as she caressed her.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you pull it off nicely." Fran enticed. "All you need now is a pair of Doc Martins and some beat up denim."

"Sod off." Missy joked "I think you fancy me a skinner."

"I fancy you any way you come, love." Fran ran her hands down the front of Missy's shirt, cupping her breasts from above.

"Later. I really need to finish this." Missy chided, gently.

"Just copping a feel, lover." Fran stood up, and disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to cook up something for tea. "Veggie Stir-fry?"

"Sounds delicious." Missy never took her eyes off the screen as she worked diligently to prepare the video for its debut.

*

By Friday, Samantha's fanny had finally calmed down to the point that she could sit comfortably. Her wonderfully tight pussy was history though, and she dreaded the first time she attempted to have sex again, with anyone of normal dimensions. She had stopped shaving due to the soreness, and the stubble that now covered her crotch was scratchy.

Rod approached her for the first time since the previous Friday although he had seen her in passing a few times. Samantha was as aloof as ever. "You like these new workstations, yeah?" He joked, knowing exactly why she had been standing all week.

"Yeah. They work." Shortly.

"You're coming tonight? The pub?" Rod questioned, although he was fully aware that she had tasked Missy with another assignment, one that undoubtedly would be something to top them all. "A few of the boys are going, and I think Missy Phillips is finally going to grace us with her presence."

"I could use a drink. I'll be there." Samantha admitted freely.

"Great. See you there." Rod sauntered back to tech support, knowing that there would be some serious fireworks at the pub that night.

Chapter Seven

Missy met Fran outside The Plough at five-thirty, wanting to give the barkeep enough time to load the DVD into the player and set it for the reveal.

"Don't let that bitch trick you into doing anything." Fran hissed. "You've got her with this, so. just hold your ground."

"Stop your worrying."

Mark was busy drawing a pint as they walked into the room. The crowd was thin yet, and they walked right over and handed him the disk. Fran had known Mark since the sixth form, and she winked with an understanding familiarity.

"This is it, then?" He frowned. "You know, Fran. I'll probably get sacked for this."

"Well, seeing as you own the place, I think you overestimate your chances." Fran lifted the pint to her lips, after sliding the Moscow Mule over to her lover. "I'll give you a signal when we want it."

"Jesus, I'll get nicked for this." Mark sighed, as he viewed the video on a portable player he had behind the bar. "Not exactly match of the bloody day, is it?"

The two shook their heads as he disappeared into the back with the disk in hand.

*

At six pm, the pub was filling up, and Samantha arrived on cue, surprised to find Missy there ahead of her. Of course, she was completely unaware that Missy already knew who she was and what she was up to. She eyed Missy suspiciously, noticing a woman sitting next to her at the bar. She was tall, with that black Irish appeal so coveted by men and women alike. By the look of her she was built as well. She hoped that she wouldn't have tangle with her.

Looking back at Missy, she smiled inwardly at what was about to happen. Slipping up between two men, Samantha ordered a drink, and then moved back behind Missy and Fran, observing them from behind.

The night before, she had stopped at the Plough, delivering her package covertly to Sydney. They had met one year before and had grown quite close. Samantha didn't have that many female friends, but Syd was one, and a good one. She would make sure Samantha's plan was carried through.

*

Seven o'clock, and the pub was roaring, with barely enough room to stand. Missy and Fran had abandoned their position at the bar for a spot well back into the room. Samantha was not far away, and Missy had spotted her, trying to drink her cocktail as she fended off the advances of a young man in a suit. Samantha was also very aware of Missy's location as she tried to make eye contact with Sydney, behind the bar.

Mark and Sydney had been sparring all night over something, but none of the three had a clue as to what was really going on. Samantha assumed that Sydney might be having trouble convincing Mark to allow her to usurp the football with the video. Neither Fran nor Missy were concerned, assuming that it was normal for the two to have a tiff upon occasion.

Fran made eye contact with Mark, who just shook his head in a negative. Fran was more insistent, moving towards the bar, Missy in tow. Samantha, not wanting to miss something, also moved closer.

Without warning both Missy and Samantha were pushed by two rather large men to the front, Fran objecting all the way. After threatening the one holding Missy with physical violence, she was promptly escorted from the pub. The two were flopped down on barstools at the center of the rather long bar and addressed by the owner.

"You two!" The bar suddenly came to a complete stop, almost unnaturally, the only sound, an enticement from the two fruit machines at the back. "You two are bound and determined to fuck each other. Well, who am I to stand in the way of that?" He nodded to Sydney, and a huge smile washed over Samantha's face. Missy, having lost her lover to the bouncer, wasn't nearly as enthusiastic.