Stealing Cassie Pt 03 New Friends

My first day back at work was hard. The memory of the weekend on a loop in my brain. I would relive every detail of my time with them again and again, over and over. The imagery sometimes became so intense, like a flashback after some exotic hallucinogen.

I couldn't concentrate at work, was forever thinking about Josh or Becky, or them both together. At least twice I had to slip away from my desk and go over to the restroom to masturbate in a fruitless attempt to scratch the unappeasable sexual itch. I wanted to burn up all this accumulated erotic need, make space in my mind free of those deliciously obsessive memories.

My work stalled. I could hardly function.

And so I would stand in a stall and take off my skirt and hang it on the back of the door so as not to crease it. Standing upright, I'd tug down my tights and knickers — to my ankles — then I'd widen my legs as far as the underwear and hose allowed, finger myself to competition. I'd think about either Josh or Becky doing all those things to me in their unique way. Often it would be both them doing things to me in their combined, unique way. Sometimes it was hard to cum in silence. Restrooms do echo so.

After work, I decided to go and see Ian, sort it out once and for good. But as I sat in Becky's fiat 500, parked outside my house, nerves got the better of me. Before going inside I called Josh. He said I he would come over and that I should wait for him, "Just in case," he said.

But I said this was my shit, and I needed to sort it myself. I took a deep breath as I slipped my key in the latch.

Ian usually got home after me, so I had a half-hour to kill. When I went upstairs to get more of my stuff, I noticed the bed was still made up, which was strange as Ian never makes a bed after him. Apparently, he had not slept in it over the weekend.

I waited an hour. Still no Ian. I tried his phone. No reply. It was then I realised I was worried about him.

I phoned Josh.

"Tell me about the last time you saw Ian," I said.

"I already have?"

"Just — It doesn't look like he's been home this weekend. Did he say anything unusual."

"The guy was fuming, Cassie. I managed to talk him out of seeing you that night, said he should wait until he'd had time to think things over, to calm down."

"What was his reaction?"

"He said you would make sure you pay for treating him like this. Then he got in his car and drove away."

My mind was racing when I said, "Listen, Josh, I think I'm going to stay here until I see him. I need to get my life sorted. I can't hide away at yours, though you've both been so generous, what with the car and all."

"Cassie! Becky and I both love you to bits. We will do anything for you."

"But I have your car."

Hold onto it until you're straight . . . Okay?"

"Thanks."

Then his tone changed, became almost conspiratorial, "But can we meet up Wednesday? Becks and I need to arrange things for this weekend with you. You are to be our special guest."

"The weekend?"

"Hendrix's party."

"Oh, I don't know . . ."

"Listen, Cassie, Daddy will be very angry if you don't come."

Without thinking, I said, "Yes, Daddy, of course, I'll come."

After speaking to Josh, I telephoned Ian's Mum, Jean. She said Ian had texted to say he'd flown out to Spain on Sunday. She knew all about me walking out on him. I didn't say a couple I know had stolen me away from him. She called me a bitch, said she had warned Ian about me and was now glad he was shut of me.

I told her to fuck off. Now that felt good.

I went for a drink with the girls from work on Tuesday evening, Abbi's birthday. When Chloe from accounts started going on about her weekend with her boyfriend and how they had been to Alton Towers, I felt like saying none of those rides at the theme park would compare to the white-knuckle experience that had been my weekend.

The others were no better; talked about shopping, their kids, Carla's new car. The conversations bored me, and I found myself looking around the pub, studying people, trying to imagine their lives.

Lots of couples came and went, and I would pick one out and speculate if they had inclinations like Josh and Becky. I would look at an apparently loving couple and wonder if they hankered for a girl like me, one who would join them. And as I sat there I imagined being just what they wanted me to be.

I knew from past boyfriends, and especially after Josh and Becky, that many couples did or at least discussed taking another female into their marital bed. The majority probably never would get to act out their fantasy, but that still left a lot who would jump at the chance.

I sat with the chatter and laughter of my colleagues washing over me and began to slip into an almost sexual delirium, the memories of the weekend continuing to replay in my mind.

Then from the corner of my eye, a mid-twenties couple heading to the bar. She was tall and blonde, a lot like Becky in her ways; he not as handsome as Josh, but still, he had the air of a guy confident in his masculinity. They paid for drinks and took a seat just ten yards from where I sat among my colleagues.

Just then my phone pinged. A text from Josh's number, though my display inexplicably said, Daddy.

DADDY: Slave! Where are you now?

ME: The Pub, with the girls from work.

DADDY: Having fun?

ME: No! *sulky face*

DADDY: What are you thinking about?

ME: A lovely couple I know.

DADDY: Are any couples near you now?

ME: Some.

DADDY: Any as beautiful as Daddy and Darling Girl?

ME: No miracles here tonight, Daddy.

JOSH: None that you like, then?

ME: Not really.

Daddy: Maybe just a little?

ME: Maybe one couple.

JOSH: Send a picture?

ME: I'll try.

I get the shot and send it to him. A moment later.

DADDY: She looks like a bad girl.

ME: Do you think?.

DADDY: Absolutely!

I looked over at the couple again, focussing now on the female, seeing her sloe-eyed beauty, the sensuous self-ease she exuded as she moved through the world.

ME: I see what you mean.

DADDY: I want you to give them the come-on.

ME: How?

DADDY: Eye contact. Facial expression. Wink if you have to.

ME: I can't do that. I'm with friends.

DADDY: Daddy and Darling Girl will be so cross if you don't even try.

ME: I'll try.

DADDY: Report back with images.

The flare of my embarrassed flesh as I fixed my gaze on the couple, neither engaging each other; she texting, he watching pub life. They reminded me of myself and Ian when we were out together.

I felt so self-conscious looking. How to give out the right signal? I felt ridiculous, but neither noticed me. I reasoned to myself that their lack of conversation probably meant they had been an item for far too long, maybe at that point in their relationship where a threesome with a gorgeous young thing like me might be at the back of their minds. As I watched them, tried to glean something of their natures, I began to think, yes Cassie; they are just the kind of people who'd want to pamper a girl like you.

I eventually got the attention of the bloke, and a lingering eye exchange commenced. Yes, he was getting the message. But when his partner saw me, understood the nature of the looks I was giving her man, she pinned me with a gaze of such sexual laden intensity that it threw me off kilter. Our eyes snagged and I felt her rake my soul. Then I knew she'd got the message of my willingness to be whatever they wanted me to be. To leave her no doubt, I notched it up a level by giving her an outrageous wink.

She smiled, turned to her husband and then they both turned to me again. While I once more held his gaze, she jotted something down on the piece of paper she took from her bag. They drained their drinks as if to leave, but then he came over to where I sat, stooped down by my side and handed me the slip of paper, whispering in my ear, "Call us later. We're staying at the Metropolis." Then he joined his wife who was already on her way to the door.

I was dumbfounded. How easy was that? I looked at the digits neatly printed in blue ink; their names, Erika and Adam.

I texted Josh:

ME: They gave their number, names too.

DADDY: What are their names?

ME: Adam and Erika.

DADDY: You must call them.

ME: I'm horny, Daddy. Can't you come and fetch me instead? I want to be with you and Daring Girl, not two strangers.

DADDY: No, We have guests. Call Erika and Adam. Do it now.

ME: Yes, Daddy.

***********************************************************

What kind of girl was I becoming? Last week, if someone had said to me that next Tuesday you will be debating with yourself whether to go to a strange couple's hotel room, I'd have called them insane.

But then this time last week I did not have a Daddy.

I needed something to calm my nerves. I went to the bar and bought myself a gin and tonic. A double. It would take me over the limit but hell. A cab will get you home, Cassie.

I remained at the bar, perched myself on a stool and watched my colleagues trying so hard to enjoy themselves, failing pathetically.

I took out the slip of paper the guy from the couple had given me — Adam, it said, but it was the memory of Erika's eyes that thrilled me. I studied the lettering as I downed my drink. Her writing. Digits and letters precisely formed, no chance of misinterpretation.

I got out my phone and texted.

ME: Hi. I'm the girl in the pub. Tonight?

No reply. And then I knew that if they did not respond, I would be so disappointed. Down in the pit of my belly thousands of crawling things awakened.

Then the ping!

ERIKA: Hi, sweetie. We're in room 235. You know where?

ME: The Metro. Round the corner.

ERIKA: We'll be waiting. Hurry. The night is escaping.

I told the girls from work I had a headache, but they were getting to that stage where arms go around each other, all new Bessie-friends. I thought of all the office politics — and despaired.

I picked up my jacket and put it on. I stood there a moment expectantly. Expecting what? I don't know: maybe some signs of them being sorry to see me going so early.

I said goodnight and walked away. But Chloe came rushing after me, caught me up by the door. "Cassie! Wait."

I turned to face her. "You okay?" she said. "You've been a bit strange since the weekend."

"No, I'm fine. Just that Ian . . ."

Then Jane calling to her from among the others, "Chloeeeee!"

She turned to look, waved, then said to me, "We must have a girlie gettogether sometime. A proper chat."

I wanted to say I'd rather lick razor blades, but I smiled weakly and let her hug me. Then she was gone, and I walked outside into the cooling evening air.

I paced the lobby of The Metropolis desperately seeking the courage to get in the lift and travel up to . . . Who-knows-what. The young receptionist looked over at me a couple of times, and I wondered if she thought I was an escort waiting for a client. I reassured myself that a hooker would not be on call in a pantsuit, flats, and white cotton blouse. Would any hooker wear her hair like mine?

I went to a chair in the corner and sat down. I wanted to be sure that before going up there would be no misunderstanding, so I texted Erika.

ME: I'm downstairs. Should I come up now?

ERIKA: Yes!.

I put the phone — the one Josh gave me all those days ago — in my bag, but before stepping into the lift, I visited for the ladies, where I checked my face, tweaked my makeup. As I did my lippy, I thought: what do people find attractive about you, Cassie? They say you are pretty, that you have a little girl lost look. And you are lost, aren't you? Deep down inside, you're still a sad little girl.

I straightened my clothes and hair and went back to the elevator, holding my head high as I strode past reception, even caught her eye and smiled.

But by the time I was standing outside their hotel room door, I was again contemplating running back home. I mean, what was I doing there? Did I, truly, want this? Would I have done it two weeks ago?

I knew I would never have even considered such an outrageous course of action. But now Daddy said I must.

I knocked and waited. Adam opened and smiled. He was in his shirtsleeves, holding a tumbler of whiskey and ice in his left hand. He opened the door wide and stood aside to let me pass, but my legs stopped obeying my brain, and I just stood there stupidly looking at him.

"Don't be shy. Erika's here too. She'll look after you," he said. "Here let me take your jacket."

He stood behind me and helped slip my jacket from my shoulders, and I turned to watch where he hung it. He came back to me and reached out, running his index finger along my jawline. "You're a stunning little thing, aren't you? Erika is going to love unwrapping the rest of you."

Cheesy! How could I have been so stupid to come here?

But then I saw Erika.

She had changed her clothes. Now a simple black mini dress whose finely stretched material hugged her curves, showing her physique to be toned and supple, her legs smooth and long. Perfection.

Her cascade of blonde hair was now bunned high and fixed in place by a finely crafted silver chignon.

When I'd seen her in earlier, I'd thought her much like Becky, but now I saw she was maybe a little taller, voluptuous, and standing six foot in those heels I reckoned. When she came to greet me, to kiss me on the cheek, she had to stoop. I found myself going up on tip-toe to meet her lips.

"Oh sweetie you are adorable. We are so pleased you made it here. Adam didn't think you'd come, said you were just teasing us. And I said, no, she looks such a guileless little thing. She wouldn't be so cruel." Then she turned to Adam, and said, "Get her a drink, then, stupid."

She put her arm around my shoulder and steered me to a large corner sofa set in an alcove across from the bed. The only hotels I had ever stayed in were either seaside B&B's or Travel Lodges, having a posh sofa in a room alongside a bed seemed odd. I looked around and saw how sumptuous the room was, wondered how much a night here would cost.

From her hug and kiss, her scent settled about me; tainted my hair, caressing my clothes, so subtle. Expensive I thought. For a moment, I I could taste her cloying sweetness on my lips, promising her kisses.

A corner sofa. She sat across from me, her bare knees almost touching mine. She fixed me with her enormous, almond eyes, yet ice-blue, clear as mountain ice. A sauciness sparkled. I wondered what plans she was hatching.

"Do you make a habit of going to bars to make eyes at married couples," she said.

"I was out with colleagues," I said.

"You appeared more interested in Adam than your girlfriends."

"He . . . You and he remind me of a couple I know. That's all."

Adam brought my drink over. I sipped it slowly. I didn't want to drink too much, wanted to keep my head, remember everything.

"The Girl says we remind her of a couple she knows," Erika said to Adam. "Can you imagine: another couple just like us. How outrageous."

I put down my drink, said. "Can I use the bathroom. I'd like to freshen up. I haven't been home since work."

"Don't feel you have to for us," Adam said.

"No, we like our guests to have something of their day about them, don't we, darling," Erika said.

"Thanks, but I'd rather. Only be a min'."

In the bathroom I undressed, peed and quickly showered, being careful not to wet my hair. I dried myself and then wrapped one of the giant hotel towels about my body.

Another look in the mirror, inspecting my face. I hated what I saw: my blatant gaucheness, the utter lack of character in my features, a person half-formed.

When I came out of the bathroom, Adam was messing with the remote control to the wall mounted Plasma. The display flickered into life, and I sat back down where I was sitting earlier, thinking Jeez! He wants to watch telly!

"Feel better, sweetie?" Erika said.

"Yeah."

I looked up at the screen: a drama was showing. A dinner party with two couples, and something familiar about the room.

Then it hit me like a rogue comet: Josh and Becky's dining room, I'd recognise it anywhere.

I don't know what my expression must have looked like to Erika, but she said, "Yes, sweetie. It's that lovely couple who look a lot like Adam and I. The world is such a marvellously strange place, don't you think?"

No mistaking my expression now, my jaw dropped when Josh's face filled the entire screen. "Ah, there you are Slave. Do you like Daddy's surprise."

I just sat there gaping.

On screen, Josh said, "Adam, mate, be a hero and help Slave to where the camera catches her fully."

He stood me in front of the screen, where I saw a camera on the table beneath the screen. He held me in place by the shoulder while Erika came and stood behind me, her palms rested on m shoulders.

"Now, slave," Daddy said. "I don't want to hear any questions from you." He fixed me with his eyes. "Do you understand?"

What I understood I was not to question his orders, but what I did not understand was how this had come to be.

"Yes, Daddy," I said.

Daddy said. "Erika, darling, what do you think of my new slave?"

"Oh, she is simply fabulous. Such a pretty one. Such a prissy little mouth. I can imagine her singing hymns on Sunday. I can't wait to see what else she can do with it."

"Yes, Prissy. That sums up Slave wonderfully. You always had a way with words."

"Thank you, darling." She said to Daddy, then kissed the top of my head.

I continued to watch the screen and could see Becky, along with two other people; an older couple. He very distinguished, mid-fifties, inordinately handsome in the bloom of his maturity. I thought of George Clooney; she a little younger, her beauty an Indian summer soon to pass, though I knew her elegance and beauty would linger into late autumn.

Josh was still talking, "Erika. If we could make a start."

And so Erika quickly removed the towel that covered me. When I was naked, she stood back to appraise me.

"She has such an adorable, petite body — and her titties, so perfectly formed, so pert."

Daddy was talking on screen: "Now, Slave! Pay attention. Raise your arms and grip the back of your head with your palms. That's it."

I felt so exposed being naked in front of strangers, wanted to cover myself, but I knew it would be a mistake to try.

"Now spread your legs wider. That's it," You may sample the goods now. Erika, Adam."

They were eager, no niceties, their hands all over my flesh. Stroking at first, their hums and murmurs of appreciation pleased me. I liked it that my body met with their approval, more than that, their delight.

The ball of her hand rubbed my mons, her fingers sliding down, worming into me. I knew I was wet down there when her digits slipped inside of me to her knuckles, down with frictionless assuredness. They sank, and I moaned them a greeting in spite of myself.

The mouths of two starved beasts devouring my flesh, hers settling on my nipples, then alternating; one then the other, and him licking the length of my inner arm, finally nuzzling into my armpits. At first, his tongue tickled and I squirmed, but then he slapped me hard on the backside and told me to be still.

Adam dropped to his knees, showered kisses on my butt cheeks, and I wanted him to lick me there — just as Darling Girl had in the dungeon.

And Erika, a sorceress of pleasure, the way her fingers came and went into my cunt, how the ball of her hand rubbed against my clit while Adam parted my butt cheeks and sent his tongue lapping in long slow passes.

A storm of orgasm was sparked and brewed, and when the ecstasy washed over me, it destroyed every residue of my rationality. My legs were gone, I felt about to topple. All coherence of mind and body lost. System close-down: Alt + Ctrl + Delete.