Something About Mary

Mary, such an old-fashioned name. I don't particularly like the name, but it suited her, because nobody particularly liked Mary. It wasn't her looks, she was actually rather pretty, when she smiled. Unfortunately she rarely smiled, smiling wasn't part of her repertoire.

She'd been a barmaid at the pub for quite a while longer than most of us. Most of us were students, earning a bit of cash to get us through Uni. She wasn't that much older, only three or four years, perhaps it was because she didn't particularly enjoy her job, maybe she was jealous that we'd soon be gone once we'd graduated and she'd still be there, I don't know.

She took obvious satisfaction in making us feel inferior. Sarcastic remarks, put downs, training us in a patronising manner. We were all used to her attitude, but she was just a barmaid, not the landlady.

She always dressed in dark, old fashioned dresses, never wore tights, never wore boots, just plain flat black shoes. She was obviously in good shape, slim, her boobs a little smaller than a handful. If she wore nicer clothes, she'd be quite a catch, nicer clothes and a bit of sun that is.

She worked most shifts, being full time. So perhaps she never got the chance for sun. She was as white as snow, with her long black hair, usually in a loose ponytail with a few loose strands that she had to frequently brush behind her ear. Her face was round with dark brown eyes, those fortunate enough to see her smile reported dimples in her cheeks. If it wasn't for her abrasive personality, she'd probably have a boyfriend. In fact, I never saw her with anyone, I'd not even known her to show interest in anybody.

When the landlady went on holiday, Mary was put in charge, she was trustworthy, and she was the most experienced in the day-to-day running of the place. Sometimes others got the chance to count up the tills or re-order stock, but Mary did it most of the time.

So, with the owner away, I was given some extra shifts, including some lunchtimes. The pub was dead most lunchtimes, food wasn't exactly our thing, we were just a city centre nightclub-feeder, we didn't need to do anything to attract business in the evenings, we just opened the doors. Lunchtimes however, had very little custom, so it was just me and Mary on duty.

Unusually, she didn't wear her trademark dark attire, she had on some cream faux jodhpurs and a white short sleeved blouse with a lacy collar. She looked different, she actually looked appealing. I didn't dare compliment, I could do with as little wrath as possible.

As it was quiet, she continuously tasked me to clean the fridge doors, polish the brass, get stock ready for the night. Not once a please, never a thank you. I didn't really mind about the impoliteness, it was her choice of words that always grated on me. Instead of "Can you slice some more lemon?", it was "lemons need slicing", or "The doors need locking", as if I should have done it already, as if the task was overdue. I shouldn't have let it wind me up, but I did. She was relentless in her abrasive instruction, and all she did for the shift was sit on the tall bar stool by the bar hatch, reading her book, eating her apple.

It was almost closing time, and the place was dead. I locked up as instructed and went to the end of the bar to pick up a knife, cling film and some lemons to slice and wrap them ready for the evening. She had one leg over the knee of the other, and was dangling her black slip-on shoe by the toes, spinning her browning apple core by its stem between her glossy black fingernails. Sitting like that and wearing those jodhpurs gave a good shape to her thigh, I couldn't help glancing occasionally, some glances were too long to be considered glances.

"The skips need emptying." she instructed, without even lifting her head from her book.

"Er, there's only a few bottles in them, we've not really sold any, I wouldn't bother"

"The skips get emptied after every shift, so they're nice and empty, ready for the next shift".

It's not so much what she said but the way she said it. I don't know what came over me, I guess I just couldn't take any more and I snapped. She began to stifle a yawn - I took that as my cue. I stuffed one of the lemons I was holding in to her open mouth and swiftly stretched some cling film around her head to keep it there.

She quickly panicked and tried to pick it off but I grabbed her wrists and wrapped them together behind her back. The bar stool tipped over and she rolled onto the floor, wriggling and shrieking, well, trying to, her loose shoes came off. She was already gagging for air, her convulsing diaphragm was peeping from under her blouse which had started to ride up her pale torso. I held her head still between my legs and cut a hole through the lemon. She was recovering her breath so hard she couldn't manage a scream, well, that and because she was gargling lemon juice.

I wheeled a (practically fucking EMPTY!) big blue plastic bottle skip from behind the bar to her side, she was still breathing hard. I threw her into it, face up, lying on her tied arms and pulled her knees over the edge.

"My mistake, it does need emptying!"

I wheeled her down the steps into the cellar. The stairs were quite wide, they lead to another bar we had in the basement, closed during lunchtimes unless there was a private party, the cellar doors were just off the corridor that led to the downstairs bar.

There were 12 steps, normally two people would carry a full skip down. I had to let it just drop one step at a time, I mean the other member of staff that would usually help was a bit, well, tied up. She felt every step, I could tell by the clap of the skip's wheels against the edging strip of each step, mixed with a small whimper. In the cellar, the cooling fans were noisy enough to drown out her muffled cries. I heard the sound of fresh ice cubes drop from the industrial ice maker that was plumbed in the far corner.

"Fucking hell Mary", I walked over to the ice maker. "I'm sorry, but if you'd just... lighten up a little, but no, you're a fucking ice maiden ain't ya?"

I scooped up a bucket full and tipped it over her. Her body went into a rigid spasm as the rough jagged cubes covered her, lifting her body out of the the skip by the back of her neck, her bare feet kicking the air. Her screams were going hoarse already, but her eyes grew extremely wide and were tracking me as I walked around the skip, considering what to do next.

"You should be used to this temperature. I need to calm down before I regret doing something. I'm going to cash up and then I'll come get you out."

She started to scream some more as I turned to go, it sounded desperate, but once the cellar doors were closed you couldn't really hear. I pocketed the kitchen scissors to help free her afterwards, finished tidying up, then took the till drawer into the office to count up.

It shouldn't have taken me very long to count, we only had one till in operation for the shift, but it wasn't balancing, it was way out, by more than we could have possibly taken with it being so quiet, it was as if the till was only half full from the start. Somebody must have stolen some, it was too significant to be a honest mistake, and I knew that this particular somebody wasn't me.

So, much later than I had intended, after double checking numerous times, I returned to check on Mary. I pushed the doors open, her legs were motionless and I couldn't hear her, I wondered if I'd overdone it. I steadily advanced on the skip, afraid she could be seriously hurt. It seemed like forever, but when I got close enough to see inside, she was fine, considering. Her guilty eyes were fixed on mine. Now I knew she had been taking money from the till, and I could tell she knew I knew, it was written all over her cling-filmed face.

"I don't know where you've hidden it." I began, looking her shivering body up and down, "I can tell it's not on your person though. But I think it prudent to check your underwear."

The melting ice had soaked her clothes through round her torso and bottom. The blouse was practically transparent and her bra almost so. I could clearly see her areolae and her nipples were beautifully prominent. Her jodhpurs were holding up better but I had ideas to remedy that. I was getting a little aroused at the sight I beheld. Wherever the money was, you could already tell she didn't have it on her.

"Well you might need to spend your takings on new jodhpurs I'm afraid.", amazingly she nodded as in agreement, well her head was sort of awkwardly contorted in the corner of the skip, but it looked like a nod.

I pulled her out of the skip by her calves, the skip capsized and the melted-smooth ice cubes scattered across the floor. She lay still, lying on top of her arms that were tied behind her back, and I pulled her legs apart and cut through her jodhpurs with the scissors. In no time I was confronted by a very tidy pussy pressing against her wet white little knickers. Wow, does she shave every day? (Whatever for?) Her plump bald mound was covered in goosebumps, her clit was peeping out at the peak of her protruding pelvic bone.

I knelt down between her legs, slid two fingertips into the leg of her knickers and drew the gusset to the left, holding it there with my thumb. I scooped up some ice cubes with my other hand. I pressed one onto her purple clit and slowly slid it down to her perineum, parting her labia, and poked it into her closed pussy. Once my middle finger was in up to the second knuckle, the ice cube was sucked into her vagina, and continued its journey without my assistance. Her chest rose sharp as it left my finger, and I pulled it out, and pinched another cube between my fingers. I repeated this sequence, clitoris, perineum, pussy until I couldn't get any more cubes to stay inside, because as she clenched her legs in response to my forcing, the cube would just fall back out.

There was a steady trickle of icy water from her agape quim, running over her anus. I rubbed the next ice cube over her clenched rectum, and tried to push it in, but it was too slippery. I gave it a quick lick then eased my middle finger in, to the sounds of muffled protest, and as she pushed my finger back out I was able to force a cube in, and after that it was easy. Her protests eventually subsided.

I took down my trousers and boxers, and started to rub my thick semi-erection over her saturated icy pussy.

"You could do with a warming up by the looks of it."

My cock was soon a veiny shaft and ready for action, but enough ice had yet to drizzle out of her. I ground the base of my cock into her clit and slid my hands up her clinging blouse, popping her buttons one by one. Her nipples were still severely swollen, I pinched them hard through her bra then uncupped each boob. Her nipples were scarlet, and there were goosebumps all over her areola, breasts, rib cage and stomach.

My dick felt like steel, so as I lowered my lips onto her left nipple I squeezed myself into her icy pussy. My hands were cupping her shoulders for leverage. I could feel some of the cold, smooth ice cubes escaping as I pushed myself inside her as hard as I could, she raised her legs in the air and wrapped them around me tight. Her cheeks, neck and chest were getting flush.

"I see I finally brought some colour to your cheeks!"

I hadn't even thrusted yet, I just kept the pressure of my groin onto hers and her body went rigid with ecstasy, making a few more cubes pop out, she dug her heels into my butt cheeks and started a fucking motion, breathing noisily through her lemon hole.

I pulled out almost all the way and slammed myself back in as far as I could, sending her rigid once more, only this time her spasm was accompanied by a grunt. Again and again I slowly pulled out then rammed her pussy until we were both breathless. Each thrust was quicker than the previous, but very gradually, each of her grunts grew longer and turning into moans, until eventually I was pounding her pussy fast enough to make her moaning continuous.

I had to stop or I'd come, but her legs kept a tight grip on me, so again I was still. My cock completely inside her twitching pussy, twitching as fast as her heart was beating, cool watery liquid swilling about.

I tried a few more times to withdraw, but her grip was persistent.

"Oh, you want me to come inside you?"

She moaned something incomprehensible, I rubbed my cheeks over her sweaty breasts and latched on to her right nipple, taking as much of her boob into my mouth with it as would fit. Then I gently bit down and pulled away, stretching her boob with my teeth. I quietly started to murmur as I recommenced fucking whilst sucking her left boob all the way in. Biting down harder this time as if coming to a climax. Growling with her boob between my teeth. I made a few final hard thrusts into her, as if I was shooting my hot cum deep into her cunt, the I collapsed on top of her, catching my breath, twitching my pelvic floor muscle, mimicking the final stages of orgasm.

It worked, she relaxed her legs after giving me a final squeeze between her thighs. I hadn't come, but was so so close. I knelt either side of her cling-filmed head, pinning down her shoulders with my shins, and eased my still hard cock into the cored lemon, splitting its pithy peel a little. I forced it inside till I could feel the back of her tongue and held her head still by her hair. She started to kick and squeal as she panicked for breath.

My balls slapped the lemon as I fucked into her mouth, hurrying my orgasm, it needed to be over before she passed out. It didn't take too long, her face was beetroot as my thick semen began to hit the back of her throat. She frantically swallowed, she had no choice. Half a dozen more cock-spasms passed, and I pulled out. She gulped her throat clear and sucked hard for air. I unwrapped her head and she let the destroyed lemon drop to the floor, fastened up my trousers, sat her up and sat by her to free her arms. She hurried out.

She fetched her coat from the office, and her shoes from the bar. She didn't say anything at first, just fixed herself whilst looking in the mirrored glass behind the bar. Her black duffel coat was long enough to hide her disarrayed attire. Then she spoke:

"You do know we only use a half float at lunchtimes?"

I didn't, she knew I didn't, I hadn't worked a lunchtime before. Shit. "Er, I wasn't aware of that, no."

"My fault, I should have told you. I'm going to the shops." she said, coolly composed. "I need some new leggings, and I'll be taking it out of your pay."

"OK, that's fair." She walked towards me, heading for the door.

"You can open up tonight, I'll be in later." She untucked her long hair from her coat and dropped the keys into my hand. I had no idea what else to say, I didn't have anything prepared by way of justification or apology, but it weirdly felt like I didn't need to. It was already like nothing had happened. She unlocked the front doors to leave, and gave me another look, almost smiling, "That's the most interesting thing that's happened to me this week! Oh - the cellar needs tidying."