oiled plastic slid up her vaginal sheath, plugging her tightly. The cords trailing from her belt were tied about the vacuum hose in front and behind her, holding the vibrator firmly in place. Cassie could only stand with awkwardly splayed legs while the hose trailed tail-like behind her and the tube and cleaner head jutted out before her in the manner of some bizarre phallus.
Stan Jessop turned on the machine and Cassie shivered as the whine of the motor was transmitted up the hose to her groin. Before she could come to terms with the disturbing sensation, Louisa switched on the vibrator. Cassie moaned as it came to buzzing life inside her. It was impossible to ignore and in seconds she felt her vagina growing slick with lubrication while her nipples began to swell and harden. Jessop noticed this and flicked the blossoming buds with his finger. ‘I told you you’d enjoy it,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Now start sweeping.’
Cassie pushed forward half-heartedly, rubbing the brush head over the carpet. Louisa swiped her cane across Cassie’s backside, making her jerk her hips convulsively, sending the buzzing vibrator gouging even deeper into her.
‘Haven’t you ever used a Hoover before?’ Louisa said. ‘Do it properly!’
Wretchedly, Cassie jerked her hips forward and back, working the brush into the carpet pile. Then she took a splay-legged step forward, dragging the cylinder after her, and cleaned the next section. And with every move she made, the vibrator churned about within her, letting no part of her insides escape its insidious stimulation.
As she worked her way across the room Cassie began to feel a familiar sense of anticipation growing in her loins. She would have thought her circumstances would have made arousal impossible, but it seemed instead to have heightened her senses. The metal tube between her thighs was getting slick with her juices. Blushing furiously she lowered her head, trying to focus only on the carpet, but it was impossible to conceal what was happening.
Cassie snatched a sidelong glance at the Jessops to see Stan with a camera in one hand while his other arm was about his wife. Even as she glanced at them she saw Stan slip his hand inside Louisa’s blouse and fondle her breast, while whispering something in her ear which made her smile. Tara had said these people were too stupid and repressed to be inventive about sex. How could she have been so wrong?
Despite her shame, reflex was taking over now. Cassie was grinding the brush head ever harder into the floor to work the vibrator about within her, surrendering to her natural urges. She just made it into the hall when she convulsed in the throws of an orgasm, grunting and gasping, sinking to her knees and bucking her hips frantically before collapsing onto her side with the vibrator still buzzing inside her.
As though from a great distance she heard Stan Jessop saying: ‘We’ll give you five minutes to get over that. Then you’ve got the stairs to do …’
Sian squatted on the scarred wooden top of the heavy workbench in Jim Curry’s shed. A chain fastened to a beam overhead was hooked to the back of her collar, ensuring she held her position. Her left hand was still cuffed behind her back, its partner locked to a belt Jim had fastened about her waist. Her right arm was free, but her hand had been taped about the handle of a dustpan brush so that she could not release it. Her knees were spread wide, concealing nothing. Jim had earlier taken some satisfaction in arranging Sian’s posture so that this should be so, then examining and photographing her at his leisure.
She had a black, shoulder-length mop of hair, matching dark intense eyes and straight brows. Her neat slightly uptilted nose was set in a heart-shaped face. She had a slim body, a tiny waist and a small pale rounded bottom. Her breasts were apple-like in their firm rotundity, with nipples that Jim had been interested to discover resembled little more than
Stan Jessop turned on the machine and Cassie shivered as the whine of the motor was transmitted up the hose to her groin. Before she could come to terms with the disturbing sensation, Louisa switched on the vibrator. Cassie moaned as it came to buzzing life inside her. It was impossible to ignore and in seconds she felt her vagina growing slick with lubrication while her nipples began to swell and harden. Jessop noticed this and flicked the blossoming buds with his finger. ‘I told you you’d enjoy it,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Now start sweeping.’
Cassie pushed forward half-heartedly, rubbing the brush head over the carpet. Louisa swiped her cane across Cassie’s backside, making her jerk her hips convulsively, sending the buzzing vibrator gouging even deeper into her.
‘Haven’t you ever used a Hoover before?’ Louisa said. ‘Do it properly!’
Wretchedly, Cassie jerked her hips forward and back, working the brush into the carpet pile. Then she took a splay-legged step forward, dragging the cylinder after her, and cleaned the next section. And with every move she made, the vibrator churned about within her, letting no part of her insides escape its insidious stimulation.
As she worked her way across the room Cassie began to feel a familiar sense of anticipation growing in her loins. She would have thought her circumstances would have made arousal impossible, but it seemed instead to have heightened her senses. The metal tube between her thighs was getting slick with her juices. Blushing furiously she lowered her head, trying to focus only on the carpet, but it was impossible to conceal what was happening.
Cassie snatched a sidelong glance at the Jessops to see Stan with a camera in one hand while his other arm was about his wife. Even as she glanced at them she saw Stan slip his hand inside Louisa’s blouse and fondle her breast, while whispering something in her ear which made her smile. Tara had said these people were too stupid and repressed to be inventive about sex. How could she have been so wrong?
Despite her shame, reflex was taking over now. Cassie was grinding the brush head ever harder into the floor to work the vibrator about within her, surrendering to her natural urges. She just made it into the hall when she convulsed in the throws of an orgasm, grunting and gasping, sinking to her knees and bucking her hips frantically before collapsing onto her side with the vibrator still buzzing inside her.
As though from a great distance she heard Stan Jessop saying: ‘We’ll give you five minutes to get over that. Then you’ve got the stairs to do …’
Sian squatted on the scarred wooden top of the heavy workbench in Jim Curry’s shed. A chain fastened to a beam overhead was hooked to the back of her collar, ensuring she held her position. Her left hand was still cuffed behind her back, its partner locked to a belt Jim had fastened about her waist. Her right arm was free, but her hand had been taped about the handle of a dustpan brush so that she could not release it. Her knees were spread wide, concealing nothing. Jim had earlier taken some satisfaction in arranging Sian’s posture so that this should be so, then examining and photographing her at his leisure.
She had a black, shoulder-length mop of hair, matching dark intense eyes and straight brows. Her neat slightly uptilted nose was set in a heart-shaped face. She had a slim body, a tiny waist and a small pale rounded bottom. Her breasts were apple-like in their firm rotundity, with nipples that Jim had been interested to discover resembled little more than
Similar Books
