The Dark Side of Maggie Moon Page 3

  Holding her firmly, he positioned himself, locating the little anointed bud; it was quivering now, tiny little trembles passing through as he touched it. Maggie crooned, pulled her buttocks again and pressed against him.

  Slowly, firmly, he moved in, slipping easily over the lubricated skin to open up that tight, tight ring. ‘Oh yes, oh yes, oh please!’ she gasped.

  He was part in now, feeling the heat of her, sensing the throbbing pulse, meeting virgin resistance.

  ‘Let’s do it properly,’ she said. ‘Let me kneel up.’

  She adopted the new stance eagerly, parting her legs and pulling her bottom open before dropping her hands to support herself.

  Greg took position: she was open and ready, blatantly inviting. Guiding his super-stiff cock with one hand he drove home. Part way in he moved about to work more cream into her and she pushed back passionately. ‘I want you, I want you!’ she cried.

  Greg pushed, her resistance ceased and he drove deep. She gripped him fervently: vice-like and he thrust against it. Suddenly the barrier broke and he slid deep, burying himself to the hilt.

  ‘Oh my god, oh glory! Fuck me, fuck me: fuck me hard. Oh that’s wonderful,

  wonderful: harder! Harder!’

  1.3

  Summer dusk marked the impending close of a fine summer’s day as Greg piloted the whispering Jaguar down the winding country road.

  I could do with a bloody good fuck right now, dare I suggest it?

  ‘Not far now!’ Greg cut across her thoughts as he consulting the sat-nav screen. The houses were scattered, set haphazardly between extensive arable fields. ‘This one I think!’ he announced, turning into a narrow lane marked by a cul-de-sac sign. A gateway on the right gave access to a substantial property with a number of cars parked on a tarmac apron.

  Maggie’s heart sank as she viewed the dark mock-Gothic brickwork. The house, for she supposed it to be a conversion, projected a sombre aspect despite the addition of a tastefully designed, glazed, contemporary porch. Some deep-rooted aversion to indulging sexual desires on consecrated ground suddenly erupted into active thought. Who would choose to live in a church? Some nutter perhaps? If anything weird kicks off I’m out of here!’

  ‘We might be going to an orgy,’ she remarked, giving expression to her disquiet.

  ‘We might,’ agreed Greg. ‘We can always turn round if you feel uneasy.’

  Maggie was quiet for a moment. The unexpected response had killed the growing excitement she had been struggling to contain. An appetite for sex, admitting to desires she had suppressed for years, had dominated her recent life and, caught up in its diversions, she had defied several taboos to embrace promiscuity.

  What now, Meg? Who are you in league with? Do you really have my interests at heart, or is this all temptation to test my resolve? Who do I want to please most, you or me?

  ‘I’m fine: let’s do it!’

  The plate glass doors hissed apart. The inner gothic doors stood invitingly open and through them could be heard the busy, welcoming sound of happy, contented guests. Maggie drew herself together, knowing that she looked devastating in the glorious lace top and velvet skirt.

  A slender, elegant blonde wearing a short cotton robe stepped forward in greeting. A simple, loosely knotted belt formed the only fastening and Maggie knew instinctively that the woman wore nothing else.

  Excitement gripped: it was happening. She, sexually reclusive Maggie Moon, stood on the brink of an immense erotic adventure.

  ‘So glad you’ve come. You’re new aren’t you? I’m Angelina.’ She embraced Greg generously, kissing him passionately on the cheek while scanning Maggie with practised professionalism. Her eyes fastened on the choker round Maggie’s neck. ‘Oh what luck, we shall be three after all; poor Joe has called off.’

  Greg said nothing; overwhelmed it seemed by the power of his reception.

  Angelina gushed unabated. ‘Go through: dressing room is off the balcony when you need it, sir; the slave master is waiting in the study – on the left through the main room. Toilets are upstairs too, or opposite the study. Despatch the slave then make yourself at home, do exactly as you please.’ Without a pause, Angelina spun round to direct an equally profuse greeting at further newcomers.

  Slave, what slave? Perplexed, Maggie hesitated until someone took hold of her arm.

  ‘I’ll show you where to go!’

  Maggie turned to find Meg leading her into the room.

  ‘I might have known!’

  Without replying Meg purposefully propelled her charge across a large reception room whose vaulted ceiling was supported on robust timber trusses: the ecclesiastic theme again. The floor was polished wood. Along one side, doors let into folding partitions indicated additional rooms. On the opposite wall two of the arched casements had been enlarged to form picture windows looking out over rolling countryside. What furniture there was consisted of seats in various styles arranged around the perimeter, leaving the extensive central space free of obstruction. In one corner stood a large pine desk with a wicked looking, curved-handled cane hanging from a hook. The penny dropped: desk, cane, partitions and gothic windows all added up to one conclusion; this was never a church, it had been a rural school. Maggie’s unease vanished and was instantly replaced by irritation as she tried to pull free from Meg’s relentless grip. ‘Leave me alone. Stop interfering in my life.’

  Meg held fast, propelling Maggie into a room lined with books. Once inside she released her hold. ‘You’ll thank me one day. Believe me; I have your best interests at heart.’

  ‘Why you, why me? Just who are you?’

  Meg smirked; that same disarming smile. ‘All in good time. Now, ditch the impatience, chill out, relax: lie back and enjoy the ride. That thrusting ambition is more burden than asset.’

  Maggie blinked, mentally groping for a riposte. When she looked up the room was empty.

  She had little time to ponder further. A stunningly beautiful woman entered, attired in a skin-tight black cat suit. The shimmering Lycra clung to every subtle contour emphasising exquisite breasts with nipples jutting against the clasping fabric. Her short blonde hair was artfully cut and a black eye mask emphasised a carefully contrived air of mystery.

  ‘You’re late!’ she exclaimed. ‘The others have gone through already. No matter: strip! I want you in place before they start on the eats. I’m Lady Jane.’

  What the hell’s going on? Maggie felt incensed, angry that this girl, Lady or not, thought it right to dictate to someone at least eight years her elder. ‘What did you say?’ she demanded.

  ‘I said strip. I don’t know where you’re coming from, but I’m not accustomed to being disobeyed by a slave; think yourself lucky that I’ve not entered this as a misdemeanour. Or is this a clumsy attempt to provoke punishment?’

  ‘What do you mean, slave? I’m nobody’s slave, not even mildly servile!’

  ‘Then why are you wearing the symbol?’

  ‘What bloody symbol?’

  ‘The choker! Slaves wear the choker, you must know this.’

  Maggie gulped, inwardly cursing for allowing herself to be duped so easily. Suddenly all became clear: Meg’s imposition and Mike’s lecherous leer. She attached no blame to Greg, she was certain that he had been manipulated too. The moment of choice: do I depart with what little dignity remains, or comply and enjoy the ride? Why did I use that phrase?

  She had no conscious memory of making the decision and the form of words came instinctively. ‘I’m very sorry my Lady, please accept my humble apologies.’

  Maggie slid down the zip fastener.

  ‘At last – the slave conforms!’ Lady Jane thrust a large couturier’s bag at Maggie who quickly folded the precious top and skirt into it.

  ‘Shoes too! Follow me!’

  They re-entered t
he main room. Maggie guessed it had once been the assembly hall. Under strong lights all focussed onto one central spot, stood two naked girls, one slender the other well fleshed but delightfully proportioned. The slender one was blonde and young; student, guessed Maggie. Her companion was black, densely pigmented, with smooth skin that gleamed beneath the lights. She was also totally bald; the whole package reeked of blatant sexuality.

  Lady Jane marshalled them into line. ‘Only three slaves!’ she grumbled, ‘We need a fourth. Vanda, strip off and come here.’Lady Jane possessed a commanding voice, melodious and powerful. Her cry cut through the noise of the room and from a corner a comely brunette broke away, scampering across the room on bare feet adorned with twinkling toe rings. Slipping off a simple diaphanous shift as she came, she arrived naked except for a metal necklet and the jewellery on her toes. Maggie decided that the silver neckband, set at the front with a sizeable stone, possibly a ruby, was equivalent to a choker: could it be that this girl was also a slave, pampered and privileged, yet submissive to someone?

  Lady Jane addressed the room. ‘Good evening friends. Time to begin our little party. I was promised that four slaves would be available this evening and four we have, although I have had to call Vanda into action to make up the number. Marcia and Ted were unable to deliver Cat because they have been involved in a road accident. I understand that they are both well and that Cat is being thoroughly fucked as we speak to keep her in trim. I have no idea what has prevented the Wrights from delivering Sukie, but a new friend, Greg, has brought his slave and we have enjoyed the pleasure of little Kim and Mitzi before. That brings us up to date and up to strength.

  ‘We have the usual format: some activities with thrashings to finish. Tonight we are doing Trolley Dollies, Sniffer Dogs and Bouncing Betty. The handlers have already been chosen by ballot: Kate, Shane, Sally and Thor, with Karen, Mike, Garth and Charlene as their assistants. So, if those eight would like to come forward, I will deal with the arrangements while they harness their charges.’

  Maggie absorbed the information without actually concentrating on it, her mind being fully occupied with trying to assess what she had let herself in for. She was certain that what sounded like a menu of party games disguised something far more rigorous designed to humiliate. They would doubtless reveal her for the sexual novice she was. I wish I could die! Normally self-assured, she felt extremely vulnerable and timid. Her eyes cast round the room in desperation, hoping to find a means of escape appropriate to a mature nude female.

  Hope abdicated. Maggie trembled with trepidation.

  Lady Jane was launching into another phase of her spiel. ‘The thrashing this evening will use paddle, tawse, cane and quirt in that order.’

  Oh my god! Maggie shuddered, hoping that she had not actually heard that terrifying list. Surely she could not be expected to submit to chastisement? Her memory stumbled back to Slave of the Harem where thrashings had been routine and much desired by the dedicated slaves. This is a nightmare, I’ve dozed off: my imagination’s responding to that bloody book. When we arrive Greg will wake me and there’ll be a pleasant little party with a bit of flirting.

  ‘Time to set the tariff,’ Lady Jane continued. ‘The usual rules apply. This evening’s deal involves three slaves, two well-tried plus one novice. As a paragon slave, Vanda is excluded from the bidding. I’ll take fives; the novice determines the minimum at twenty-five, so who will start me at thirty?’

  The offer came instantly and the figure began to rise steadily as more bids followed. Maggie viewed the situation with alarm; untutored in the protocol of this curious auction, she could only assume that it reflected the degree of suffering and the rapidity of its rapid increase made her quail.

  ‘I have one-sixty, any advance on one-sixty?’ There was a long pause as Lady Jane scanned the crowd.

  ‘One-six five, one-seventy?’ she continued – another pause.

  ‘One-seventy, closing at one-seventy – one-seventy, closed!’

  Maggie felt faint, so faint that she hardly felt the touch of hands on her body, preoccupied as she was at the prospect of being beaten nearly two hundred times. Her handler was young and handsome, fair of face with vibrant blue eyes and fashionable stubble accentuating the strong square jaw line. Athletic in build with sturdy thighs covered in golden down, he was naked except for a white t-shirt clinging to his muscular torso. When she did regain enough composure to begin absorbing detail, she experienced a lustful surge at the sight of the powerful erect penis jutting beneath the brief garment. The front of his shirt carried the printed slogan, My name is Ozymandias…, with the final word crossed through and the name, Shane, scrawled below.

  Shane was fitting a harness, a set of pliable leather straps surrounding her bosom like a vestigial bra. Other hands were working below, fitting more straps around her pelvis: a waist strap supporting a single broad strap that passed loosely between the thighs and up over Maggie’s bottom.

  Shane unhooked this looped strap, saying, ‘Thank you Karen, now the device please.’

  He reached between Maggie’s thighs to take it, using his free hand to probe the exposed labia, parting them and provoking a flow of juices. Maggie balked at being so blatantly assaulted, lurching backwards to escape. Shane restrained her by catching a ring set in the waistband. He continued with his intrusion as Maggie adjusted to her enforced role. Stay calm, this is what they expect. Once accepted, it was quite pleasant, and his magnificent cock held immense promise. His fingers confirmed her reaction, rapidly waking responses and liberating multiple desires. She was soon well lubricated and his attention transferred to her clitoris, rousing it with a gentle circling massage of the hood. The pressure increased, getting harder and easing into the interior. Maggie tensed as his finger caressed the nubbin itself, encouraging the hood to retract. A soft sensation of bliss settled on her as Karen handed him something.

  The touch of that something nosing at Maggie’s vagina was gorgeous. Instinctively she opened in welcome, urgently desiring its big firm presence in her sheath. She pushed down, encouraging it to go deep, filling her so beautifully.

  Working from behind, Karen settled the dildo firmly in place, manipulating an extension that replaced Shane’s finger in direct contact with Maggie’s clit. Shane refastened the loop, tightening it to press the dildo firmly into place. Maggie was consumed by joy, a sense of well-being possessing body and mind, so that when Shane inserted a gag and buckled it tightly behind her head, she submitted meekly. A lead rope was clipped to her harness and she followed humbly to be paraded round the room in a file of four accoutred slaves. The unaccustomed bulge between her thighs caused her to waddle awkwardly, this, the harness and the deeply buried dildo made every step obvious: a strange yet exceedingly pleasant experience, generating anticipation of pleasures that must surely come. I certainly need that shag now; I reckon I could enjoy a spanking if it guarantees a good fuck. I bet Meg approves of this.

  As they circulated, she found herself scanning the faces to find her mysterious tormentor or Greg, but found neither for the room was crowded to capacity.

  Shane steered her into one of the side rooms. Here were four large trolleys, each laden with a different type of food or drink. The handlers began connecting the slaves to them.

  At one end of each trolley a pair of handles curved up to waist level with leather tabs that clipped over the wrists, locking her to it. While parading she had been conscious of something dangling between her knees: this proved to be a connecting cable that Karen now plugged into a socket beneath the trolley.

  Will I be electrocuted as well? Alarmed at the prospect, Maggie looked expectantly toward Shane.

  ‘Your duty is to circulate the main room. Guests will help themselves to food from the dishes. You must keep a look out for requests. If you are called, you must go to them as soon as possible. You must never keep a guest waiting. Slaves must be obedient.�
�� As he spoke, he reached beneath the trolley and Maggie heard two firm clicks.

  The device in her vagina burst into action causing surges of pure delight as it pulsated from rim to apex, setting every erotic centre trembling with desire: clitoris, nipples and anus, all tingling as the device internally fucked her. Oh glory! She leant heavily on the handles to contain her reactions. This caused the trolley to move and instantly the extension touching her clit seemed to explode; Maggie thought she must die from delight and stopped to recover her composure. Shane smacked her rump sharply. ‘Keep moving!’

  The sting in her buttock merged with the myriad sensations coursing her body. Subconsciously she registered that the dildo and the clitoral vibrator operated separately, the clit probe being somehow actuated by the wheels. Movement started it; stopping switched it off. She desperately wanted it to continue, hating the moment when she had to stop to provide service. It was difficult to concentrate on the task while mentally cruising on the frontier of paradise. Making it harder was the constant attention she was receiving from the crowd. Hands roamed over her body without restraint, breasts and nipples under constant attention as they were pinched, squeezed, palpated, rolled and squashed, all things that Maggie loved, even to excess.

  The trolley was laden with desserts, dishes brimming with cream. Much of it was finding its way onto her nipples, spread there for others to lick off. Syrup trailed down her spine, eager tongues removing it over and over. And all the while the dildo pulsed within, its ceaseless rhythm smothering conscious thought.Shane smacked her buttock, ‘Look lively, you have customers over there!’ Maggie surged forward. The tickler burst into life. Sensations soared through her clit and up, up into her brain, setting her body alight. She had neither the skill nor desire to resist. The orgasm detonated, overwhelming thought as she strove to waddle swiftly toward her impatient consumers.

  The eating and drinking continued endlessly, so it seemed. Maggie was lost in a miasma of whirling sound and touch, interspersed with mind-blowing orgasmic rushes almost every time she changed location. Her body tingled and glowed where Shane and Karen had urged her forward. Twice the trolley was replenished and emptied before, finally, Shane steered her back to the side room.