This is the sequel to The Tutor, Pt. I, which introduces the characters and relationships. I strongly recommend you read that first before continuing.
This story contains elements of nonconsent and reluctance. If these are not your kinks, this story is probably not for you.
Otherwise, enjoy! Comments and feedback are always welcome.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Jen heard muffled voices outside the bedroom door. She must have dozed off, exhausted from the exertion. Someone must have undone her restraints as she slept, for her wrists were now free. Her body felt well-used. Not sore or achy, but loose and tingly. She closed her eyes and sighed to herself, trying in vain to clench her tired pussy, recalling with pleasure the feeling of fullness the two men had given her.
The door opened, and she immediately recognized Mr. Davies' deep voice.
" - definitely one of the best I've had in recent memory. You've just got to see her to believe me." Jen feigned sleep, but her ego swooned with pride, knowing he was talking about her. Mr. Davies was no inexperienced cocksmith; she couldn't imagine how many women he had bedded, and she relished the feeling being labeled one of the best. Despite her overt reluctance, a part of her - buried deep until recently - still wanted to please him, and she had succeeded.
Her confidence kept her from moving or even closing her splayed legs. She knew the second man wasn't Hunter, but the thought intrigued her in untold ways. She envisioned herself laid out before his eyes with a plaque above her, declaring her "The Best," and she silently laughed at the thought. "Go on, take a look," she mentally dared. "Look and lust. Get hard for me." She thought of the Mullins twins at school, of Hunter, of the men at the peep show, of Mr. Davies, and thrilled at her power over male anatomy. They might be able to restrain her and to punish her, but she could control their very bloodflow, swelling their dicks with hardly any effort.
The men approached the bed, and Jen heard a long, low whistle.
"Amazing, right?" Mr. Davies whispered.
"My fucking God, what a perfect body," the stranger intoned. "That ass is the cutest, roundest little package I've ever seen. How are her tits?"
"More than a handful, with these big, juicy caps," Mr. Davies described.
"And you think she'll be down for it?"
Mr. Davies chuckled. "Ha! What difference does that make?" Both men laughed. "Besides, she's all caught up with my son, does whatever he tells her. And after this afternoon, I'm sure she'd love the idea." Jen felt fingertips travel slowly up her leg, from her ankle, past her knee, to the inside of her thigh, and around the curve of her ass. The touch was gentle but not tentative, and she was sure it wasn't Mr. Davies' hand. Her pussy fluttered, wondering if he would dare. To her disappointment, the fingers left her skin as they passed along her spine.
"I don't know how you do it, Davies, but we'll be here. Just make sure she is, too. This is going to be one hell of a poker party."
"Literally!" The two men laughed at the joke as they left the room. Alone, Jen rose and dressed. She saw no sign of the men or of Hunter as she left the house, filled with anticipation and apprehension.
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"Hey, barmaid! Get me another one!" the husky man yelled at Jen. She rose from the couch for the umpteenth time to fetch beers for the players at Mr. Davies' poker table. Hunter had said his dad and some co-workers would be playing poker at his house that night when he invited her over, but she hadn't expected to play servant girl to the five middle-aged cops. She wasn't sure what she had expected, to be honest, after hearing Mr. Davies and the stranger she now knew as Chase checking her out the day before. She had played innocent with Hunter when he asked, knowing full well that whatever happened, this was no innocent date-night of movie-watching and copping feels.
She had certainly dressed for the part, though, deciding to exercise her new-found power over the men with a knee-length black skirt, plaid stockings, and a white button-up blouse through which her black bra could just barely be seen. At the last minute, she decided to leave her panties at home. "Just one more thing to carry later," she thought, laughing to herself.
She was bent down, getting a beer from the fridge, when she heard a cough behind her. Surprised, Jen bolted up and spun to see Chase taking a long pull from his bottle. She knew he must have had quite a view from his vantage point.
"Don't move on my account," he said with a wink. He turned slowly and went back to the living room, leaving Jen slightly embarrassed even though he had seen much more just the day before. She straightened her skirt, popped open the bottle and went back to the table.
"That's a girl," said Dan, the husky guy, as she put the beer in front of him. "Now, no peeking, you little cheater," he joked as he covered up his cards. Max, the slim, clean-shaven guy to his left, feigned a peek up Jen's skirt as she lingered by the table.
"Aw shucks," he jokingly moaned. "Not even a little peek?" he asked, eliciting raucous laughter from the group. Jen put a hand on his shoulder and played along.