August 2002 -- Part 3
It was the final week of the engagement. The report was all but submitted and they were killing time. Neither of them admitted it, but they could easily have called it a day and headed back to London earlier than planned. As had been the case in the previous week, they were alone on the job.
Having got to know each other well over the last few days, things had become a lot more relaxed. They had eaten together in the evenings, shared a bottle of wine each night, and found out a little bit more about each other. They were almost genuine friends. They had even exchanged a few text messages over the intervening weekend.
Thursday would be their last night together, and their last night in this hotel for the year. They had slept together every night leading up to Thursday. Nothing too adventurous, but passionate and intimate sex. She felt like she had gained 8 years' worth of education in 8 days. Thursday night seemed to come quickly.
As he dressed for dinner -- jeans and a white shirt, he reflected on his time with Allison from the moment he had decided to teach her a lesson for being so aloof, so cocky to more recently when she'd woken up and been moist for his entry. Everything he had tried with her, she had accepted: blindfold, oral, anal, sex and shaving. She had never resisted and always seemed to fully enjoy herself after initially responding to his increasingly excessive sexual demands with silence.
Tonight, he had more lined up, and more than she had probably ever begun to imagine. He wondered if tonight would be the point that she decided to say "no" and to return to her own room, then return to London alone. It was a calculated gamble, but he had made his decision at the weekend, and he was determined to stick with it. Fortune favours the brave, he reminded himself.
During the previous 6 weeks -- the nights when they hadn't been together -- Jack had frequented the hotel bar on multiple occasions. He'd struck up a good relationship with the barmen, and some of the night staff in the hotel. He'd even joined a few of the maintenance men in a couple of late-night poker games out of sight of the front desk.
She dressed to impress him, having spent a long time over the weekend back in London deciding what to wear during the week. For Thursday, she decided upon her favourite purple lace bra, a thin, short black dress that clung like glue to her curves and matching purple French knickers that were very see through in the light. Stood in front of the long hotel mirror there was no doubting the baldness of her pussy, shaved by Jack the week before. She looked absolutely stunning. No matter what she wore, her body was constantly on show -- pushing at the seams of her clothing. Her ass was magnificent and muscular, almost lifting the back of her skirt and her breasts were just perfect -- symmetrical and full. Whilst her dress was not low cut, there was a lot to see as he sat across from her, making small talk and ensuring that their feet touched from time to time as they ate.
After a very pleasant Italian meal, followed by some espresso martinis to wash it down, they headed back to his room. She wasn't a big drinker, and she was feeling very tipsy. Slightly unsteady on her feet in heels. She reached out to him to keep her balance as they returned to his room. As he closed the door, he took off his shoes, leaving one of them positioned just inside the door frame, so the door didn't fully close.
It felt appropriate, to him, that the blindfold made a return for what was to happen next. It seemed to have a psychological significance to Allison. When she was wearing it, she couldn't see a thing. Perhaps her brain processed what happened when she was wearing it as if it weren't really happening. She accepted it being placed over her face and secured tightly with two Velcro straps at the back. She stood still in the night, fully clothed, whilst he sent multiple text messages in unison.
It wasn't long before the room filled in silence with men who had watched her enter the hotel in the evenings, check in at reception for messages, and make evening visits to the hotel gym. She hadn't seen them watching directly, but they had. Over their poker games they had contemplated if she had been the most attractive guest ever to visit. None of them could believe the opportunity they were offered, but equally none of them refused it.
She had been stood motionless for 2 minutes before Jack motioned to them to come forwards. Initially she thought the hands were his. Hands feel like hands, after all. Massaging her breasts gently through her dress. Then she got the shock of her life. Two sets of hands on her. One on her breasts, the other on her ass. The second pair smoothed her dress over the contours of her cheeks, then lifted the dress up. Everyone in the room could see her purple French knickers. Those facing her could make out her naked pussy underneath. Those behind could see her muscular buttocks. She drew breath as if to cry out but remained silent. Was this a conscious choice, or was she too scared to scream?
A third pair of hands lifted her dress up and over her head, throwing it into the corner of the room. Another pair unhooked her bra, while another pair squeezed each breast firmly in turn. There were fingers in her knickers within seconds. Fingers entered her from the front, spreading her slick and moist lips in the process. Another hand seemed to hold her lips open. She opened her legs further to accommodate. More hands moved her legs even further apart as she stood in the middle of the room and slipped inside her from behind. It was impossible for her to protest when she was as wet as she was. Multiple hands all over her body, caressing her curves, stroking, and toying with her erect nipples. Fingers inside her worked her glistening pussy as it began to throb, and her mouth let out audible moans of pleasure. So many fingers took turns entering her and gauging her wetness. She didn't know how many people were in the room. It felt like everyone in the hotel was taking a turn. Even though she was soaking wet, she still couldn't take more than two digits fully inside her.
Her knickers were pulled to the floor, then flicked to the side of the room by a foot. Jack watched with intense amusement, this time his camera was set to video mode, and he was recording. She was completely naked, firm large breasts with soft pale nipples on display for all to see. Before he gave the nod for the men to set upon her, he opened her legs wide as she stood up, so she looked like she was almost about to prepare to perform the splits, then passed the camera to an onlooker briefly. Her pussy was wide open, and he put his middle finger inside her, fully inserted to the knuckle. She was wet, but it was still tight. She gasped. He removed it slowly, then replaced his finger with two fingers. Even tighter. He licked the moisture from his fingers as he stood back and took hold of the camera. She was ready.
One of the men, Marco the Italian sous chef, put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to the floor. It wasn't forceful, but she wasn't able to resist. The blindfold meant she wasn't sure of her bearings, or of any furniture or obstacles around her. She was entirely at their mercy. Marco pulled down his jeans, and his boxer shorts, and moved towards her on his knees, pulling her towards him by grabbing her waist. He slapped both her buttocks hard and thumbed her asshole without penetrating it. Was he being too rough, Jack thought?