Shop Soiled Ch. 2

Ta, mate. I'll get the next one in.

Anyway, where was I? Right. Next morning I'm at the shop early. Funnily enough, the missus woke up and wanted a bit. I'd fucked the arse off her when I got in and she was well horny again. She jumped on top and started riding the fuck out of me. Thing was, I'd already decided that the bird in the shop was where I was going to empty my bollocks first off, so I had to push her off sharpish and say I had to be in work early. Legged it without even having a shower, stinking of the wife's cunt and me own spunk. Anyway, I figured the little slut was probably used to that. The one in the shop, that is, Dave, not the missus. No-one could ever call the missus a slut. More's the bleedin' pity.

Anyway, she turned up bang on time. I tell you, mate, she was dressed like she was ready for a night whoring herself out. She had a skirt on…I'm telling ya, it barely covered her cunt. She had a black bra under this little white top so her tits were virtually screaming at me. She had shitloads of make up on and her hair was blonder, much more tarty than the day before. I couldn't believe she'd walked up the street looking like that!

"Hello, love," I said. "Looking forward to it?"

"I can't wait," she says, grinning. "By the way, I didn't ask yesterday, but what's your name?"

"Stuart. Stu. Whatever. How about you?"

She starts laughing: "Jenny. Slut. Cunt. Whatever."

She's still standing by the door when she says that, so I say: "Hadn't you better come in?" To be truthful, I wasn't really sure what to say to the 'Slut. Cunt' bit. I mean, I've never had that when I've asked a bird's name before. It puts you off your stride a bit. Mind you, if she tells you it's 'Slut. Cunt. Whatever' you've got a pretty good ideas of where you stand, aintcha?

Anyway, she starts walking across the floor, tits swinging away, and I catch a glimpse of something shiny hanging between her legs. First thing I think is: 'fuck me! The dirty cunt's got no knickers on!' Then: 'hang on, her fucking hole's pierced!' I mean, she'd said about that, hadn't she? But not only that, she's got something dangling off the lips.

I'm in front of the counter again, having resumed yesterday's 'all right, darling?' position. She comes and stands about two inches from me. Same reeking cunt. I tell ya, I'm dizzy with it.

"It's my Master who calls me those names," she says, still smiling. "But to be honest, that's what I am anyway, so I don't mind who uses them. A spade a spade and a cunt a cunt."

I'm thinking: 'Fucking hell, I never thought posh birds talked like that!'

"Can't argue with that, love. Can't argue with that." To be honest Dave, I was a bit shaky. I didn't really know what to say. She was doing my fucking head in. Don't get me wrong, I get me fair share of hole, like, but this was fucking ridiculous.

"My Master is very encouraging. He's very strong, like you." This is said apros whatsit of fuck all, but at least it gives me a question. "Right, yeah, this Master business, what's the crack there, then?"

She moves even closer. Now her cunt is pushed up against my cock, which – obviously - is as hard as fuck. With the heels on – did I mention the heels? - she's almost as tall as I am, and she whispers, all low and throaty, like: "I'm his cunt, I exist only for his pleasure. Without his pleasure I have no meaning. I lose myself in his needs.

"Everything he tells me to do, I do. Even if I don't really want to do what he asks, I end up loving it…because I adore him. He knows that I am his whorish cunt who can't resist his orders. I fuck whoever, or whatever, he tells me to fuck. And he loves me for it. He has turned me into a repository for cum. 'A walking spunk bank', he calls me 'a cheap whore spunk bucket'."

Blimey! Does he ever buy you flowers and chocs I wonder? But I never said nothing. Well, I mean, what could I have said? 'Oh yes, and do you enjoy many social events at the palace?' Not used to it, see. A bit out of me depth, truth to be told, Dave, mate.

"The wonderful thing is that I can never, ever get enough hard cock. Cunt, arse, mouth, all my holes need filling…all the time What do you think of that Stuart, Stu, Whatever?"

Sweet, I'm thinking. I'll have a bit of that! But I just says: "Right, er, lovely!"

Dead quick, she nibbles my ear and moves her head away. Right, I think, fuck it! I move me hand down to her cunt, feel something cold and, like, metallic between her legs. But then her hand shoots down and pushes mine away. I think, fuck it! She's just a fucking cock-teaser!

She smiles and shakes her head. "No, Stuart, Stu, Whatever. I can only let you do that when my Master says that it is all right. I'm hoping that he'll text me soon. He texts me all the time with little tasks."

Thank fuck, I think. It's still on. "Okay, yeah," I says to her. "That sounds fair. Gotta wait for the boss, like. Yeah, no worries. So…er, little tasks, hey? What's that all about, then?"

She smiles that dirty little smile and sort of snorts. "Oh lots of little tasks. But not enough to keep a cunt like me from wanting more all the time."

"Right," says I. "I can see that. No offence, like. Er, what sort of things?"

She eased her cunt back against my hard on, and leans over to whisper in my ear. Low, so I have to strain to hear it, she whispers: "Yesterday I thought that my task was only to get a job here. I was itching for some cock, desperate to be used, spunked up. My Master insists that I keep my cunt bare at all times so that my holes can be used instantly upon his command. And I so desperately wanted to have hot cum running out of me, feel gallons of spunk between my thighs, while I talked to you. I've seen you through the window several times and I so wanted you to know what an easy, shameless cunt I am. Do you want to know what happened Stuart, Stu, Whatever?"

Too fucking right I wanted to know what happened! Only a bit less than I wanted to know next week's Lottery numbers. Just goes to show how much she was doing my head in, don't it? Anyway, I just nodded, acting cool, like.

She smiled again, her cunt pushed slap against my stiff prick. I could feel something hard pressing against me. I remember thinking, 'fuck me, I hope she ain't got metal bollocks!'

"I was less than fifty yards from here and he texted me. Do you know what the message said?" I shook my head and resisted the temptation to say, 'of course I don't fucking know what it said. D'you think I'm Uri Fucking Geller or summat?'

"It said: 'Good morning, cunt. Fuck a stranger before your job interview. Sir'. How thoughtful of my Master to know that I needed for a cunt-full. As I reread the message, a man ambled by. 'Excuse me', I called after him, 'would you like to use my cunt?' Ha! He almost passed out. I strolled over to him and told him that it wasn't some sort of bizarre set-up. I had needs and a Master who saw to it that those needs were met.

"He looked absolutely, utterly shocked. He was an oldish man, perhaps late fifties, short grey hair, but very kind blue eyes. Smartly dressed, he was. My cunt, already wet, flooded. It opened in anticipation of his erection sliding up me. A nice man's spunk to have inside me while I talked to you."

Fuck me, I'm thinking, couldn't you have waited fifty yards and let me do the business? I say nothing because she's obviously getting into her story and I don't want to interrupt the flow, so to speak.

"'I…I…don't know,' he said. I moved closer. 'My Master sent me a text message,' I said by way of explanation. 'I can't fail him. And you look so sweet and kind. Here, read the message.' As he squinted at the mobile phone screen, I massaged his cock and balls. Despite the fact that he was hugely embarrassed by the number of people in the street, he grew hard. Of course, I didn't give a fuck about the people. After all, by the time my Master has done with me, I will have been fucked by most of the men…and would, no doubt, have licked and been licked by quite a few of the woman."

Nice one, I think to myself. Can't beat a bit of the old lesbo action, can you? I never said that, though, just asked her what happened next.

She smiled at me and carried on: "He was shaking but he nodded his head, just a tiny bit. He was clearly a little intimidated, so I took him by the hand and led him a few feet down the alley by the jewelers. I hoiked my skirt up, the poor love was shaking, and unzipped him. A nice circumcised cock sprang out. God, he was bug-eyed at the sight of my bald cunt. I was so wet and so open that he slid up me easily. He fucked me quickly, roughly, apologizing all the time. After no more than fifteen or sixteen strokes I felt him cum spurting inside me. Ah, heaven is a cunt full of spunk. Did you know that Stu. Stuart. Whatever? Still shaking, he zipped himself, kissed me clumsily on the mouth, and sped of like he expected me to ask for cash!"

I breathed out heavily. Jesus, Dave. What a slut! The bell rang just then and the first punter of the day came in. She stepped back coolly, raised an eyebrow and said: "And what would my boss like me to do first?"

The punter wasn't one I knew. He hung about by the mags, pretending he wasn't looking at Jenny, Slut, Cunt, Whatever. She made a fucking sight, I can tell you. From where he was he could probably see her arse cheeks and maybe even the metal thing hanging off her cunt.

"Well, boss?" She asked again. "Work?"

"Right. Er, I know. There boxes of vibro's and stuff out the back. Fill them shelves there. Any that's empty, ask me what should go there."

She nodded. "I do soooo hope that there are at least a couple of things that are empty before the day's out."

With that she skipped out towards the backroom. Before she got there, her mobile goes off. Got that ring tone like on the football on ITV. Beethoven…or the other one, you know? Any road, she's reads the message, goes a bit red then grins. She totters back on those heels and thrusts the phone out at me. "My Master's voice," she says. "Look." The message, when I can make it out, says: 'After a suitable display, suck off your new boss, whore' Fuck me, Dave, it's game on!

She looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "I better get on with filling shelves. Then, I think I'd better suck it and see."

Off she went humming that ring tone. Next second, the punter was stood there with a 'How To Be a Better Lover' video. I took one look at him and thought, trouble is pal, it don't tell you in there that if all else fails have a head fucking transplant. I smile at him: Anything else, sir?" I'm thinking, 'a bag for your head, maybe, sir?' I know he's gonna ask. And, course, he does…

"Do you have anything, er…"

"Er, what sir?" I says, all helpful, like.

"More, er…"

"'More…er', hey? Ah. Well, to be honest, I'm not sure exactly what sir means there, sir."

"You know…er, more…er, more imported?"

It was all I could do not to piss myself. "Ah, imported, sir. I'm with you now!" 'Ah, fuck it', I think, 'he ain't Old Bill and he's got cash, stop taking the piss'. Nip back behind the counter and pull out 'Alan Passions' (fucking cracker that one, even if they have misprinted the title on the box). "Bit of this, sir? He nods. "Sixty," I say. He nods. "Will sir still be wanting the other?" He shakes his head. Three twenties, bang, bang, bang. Out the door. A little Linford Christie with a hard-on.

Fuck me! I look sideways and she's there bending over a box not four feet away. Her round arse is poking up, legs splayed. Cunt lips on full fucking view! Guess what? She. Has. A. Fucking. Padlock. On. Her. Fucking. Cunt! Straight. Fucking. Up! A padlock on her cunt. Jesus H. Christ! I near enough spunked in me jeans right there and then.

"She's got her hands in the box of vibro's but she ain't moving much, just gently swaying so the padlock moves from side to side gently hitting each thigh and bouncing back again. In all honesty, I'm not sure whether to saying anything, I mean I have no fucking idea what the pack drill is for this sort of malarkey. Anyway, I'm happy enough to leave it to her. Can't help stroking me cock, though. Then I think 'fuck it!' I pulled it out and started wanking. She gives this little moan when she hears the fly coming down. I start wanking slowing, eyes glued to her cunt, praying that no fucker comes in. I move a couple of feet forward. I can see cunt juice glistening on the padlock.

The game's up, so there's no point in pretending I ain't noticed. "Why the padlock, love?" I ask, still wanking.

"My Master likes to keep my cunt locked. No-one enter me when my cunt is locked unless he says so," she says without turning round. "Is my boss pleased with the display?"

"Fucking lovely!" I say. "Beats the shit out of Debenham's window!"

She almost whispers the next thing: "My cunt may be locked from use at the moment, but my mouth is open. It needs to be full."

She stands up and turns round, then pushes me back behind the counter. Just before she goes down on her knees, she stops and, as a sort of afterthought, eases two fingers up her cunt. She frigs herself for a few seconds, pulls the fingers out and briefly puts them under my nose. They've covered in cunt slop and really stink.

"Does my boss like his employees perfume?" She asks. I nod. "I thought he would," she says smiling and sinking to her knees. She starts sliding her tongue along the shaft of my cock, slowly, lovingly, like it's precious or something. She tugs me bollocks out of the old boxers and starts nipping and nibbling.

Door! Fuck! Punter! Keep calm. "Keep it up, cunt," I says to her out of the side of my mouth. "Suck that fucking cock, like the fucking whore you are." You know, I reckon I'd be well sound at this master business, Dave.

Punter's arsing about by the uniforms, hands in pockets pretending he's looking at suits in Next. Prick! The thing is, Dave, fact that there's someone else in the shop is really getting her going. She eating me down to my balls and she's wormed her way round to me arse and slipped a finger in. Really sucking now, squeezing my balls. They're tightening. I'm gonna come in her mouth while this bloke's there. She knows I'm about to shoot, so she really goes for it. Punter's wandering over to me. Fuck! Spunk misses her mouth and goes over her hair, face, neck and tits. Fucking covered, she is!

Punter's at the counter. He wants something. Then, dirty bastard that I am, I have an idea. She can only say no, can't she? "Jenny," says I, "we have a customer. Could you come up from there and see what he needs?"

For a second she goes all stiff, and I think, 'nah she ain't having a bar of it'. Then, slow as you like, she rises, like a Whatsit from the whatsits. She's stood in front of me, eyes glinting, spunk dripping off her. I'd shot fucking loads over her. I tell you, mate, she was plastered. A dollop drops from her chin onto her tits. The three of us stood staring at it. She wipes it up with her finger, turns to the punter and says: "What can I do for you, sir? Then she popped the cum-drenched finger in her mouth, sucked it all off and said: "Mmmmm. I adore the taste of hot spunk."

Tell you what, Dave, I adore the taste of cold lager. Get 'em in and I'll tell you the rest. Yes, there is more, plenty more. Now be a good lad and get to the fucking bar.

Cheers! Where was I? Oh yeah, the punter. He don't know what the fuck to say. He's looking round for a Dutch Jeremy Beadle from some triple X satellite show. He don't know what to make of it. Daft cunt just fucks off!

Me and her laugh at that, then she says: "Does my new boss wish me to keep on my new make up?"

"Oh yeah," says I. "Expensive that, Spunk by Stuart. None of yer Skin Care by Clinique shite round here, girl."

I want to ask her things, but the football theme tune kicks in again. Sure enough, it's her Master (I'm thinking, can this bloke see what's going on, or what?). She lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

"What's that?" I says.

She leans across, another dollop of cum slides of and drips on the counter. Almost absentminded she scoops it up and licks it from her finger. She shows me the message. 'Cunt, after lunch you will fuck your new boss. You will remain cunt-locked. Sir'

Yes! Fucking ace! Pussy for free! Hold on, Gaz is in this afternoon. What's old Master Blaster gonna make of that? So, I tells her about it. Better text him, hadn't you? She nods, taps out a message, presses send and shows me: ''Sir, my boss's boss will also be here this afternoon. Please advise urgently. Cunt.'

Almost as I finish reading it, Ludwig pipes up again. 'One New Message'. She reads it and passes the phone over. It says: 'Whore's must please whoever. Two men will fill you better than one. Sir.'

Dave, it is party fucking time. Need a piss. Hang on I'll be back.

To be continued...