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.
"Now, now," she scolded. "You need to focus on your cards, especially with a short stack like that."
"Not the only thing on him that's too small to impress," Terry, the only black guy at the table, shouted, and the five of them erupted again. Hunter had edged closer to the table and laughed with the older men. "Hey, honey, why don't you come over here and keep a real player company?" Terry invited.
"We can't all be blessed like you, Terry," Max replied. "You just stay right next to me, baby. I need all the help I can get." His arm had wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on her hip. Jen caught Hunter's eyes. He was smiling and gave an almost imperceptible nod in permission.
"Now, what do you think of these?" Max asked her, showing her the cards in front of him. He had leaned closer to the table to keep them from other prying eyes, pulling Jen closer in the process.
"I think you've got quite a handful," she said, emphasizing the last word and twisting her hip into his palm. His grip tightened, and he was now massaging her hip, his arm pressing harder against her backside as he considered the ace and jack in front of him.
Max raised, and the laughter died down as the men settled into the hand. Check, raise, call, fold. By the river, Max had drawn two pair - aces over jacks. His other hand had gotten stronger, too, and he was now practically kneading Jen's ass as she pressed against him. Dan and Mr. Davies called on the river and revealed their cards. Max topped both of them, but in the midst of the excitement, the intensity of the hand finally breaking loose, Jen had jumped to clap for him, bumped the table, and sent Max's beer all over his shirt.
"Goddammit!" he yelled. "Fucking hell, are you good luck or bad luck?" he asked angrily, futilely wiping the suds in a futile attempt to dry his shirt.
"Jesus, Jen, you got to be a little more careful," Mr. Davies reprimanded her. She saw the smiles gone from the men's faces, partly because she'd almost knocked their drinks over, too, and partly at frustration over losing a big hand.
"Fucking hell," Max swore. "I don't know whether to kiss you to spank you."
"Well, both are my job," she heard Hunter say as he moved around the table in her direction.
"Yeah, keep your girl in line," Terry encouraged. A chorus of agreement went up from the table, mixed with mirthless laughter. Hunter stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder, and playfully tapped her ass.
"I've raised you better than that, boy," Mr. Davies said. "She ain't gonna learn her lesson from a love-tap." The table was silent as Hunter placed his left hand between her shoulder blades and his right hand on her waist, bending her over the table. Jen braced her elbows on the green felt as Hunter parted her hair over her face. She had expected an interesting night, but finding herself bent over the table with her ass in the air so suddenly took her by surprise. She surveyed the expectant faces of the players. Terry licked his lips. Mr. Davies grinned and leered. Both Max and Dan leaned back to get a better view.
Finally, she locked eyes with Chase. He was easily the best-looking of the bunch. His eyes were cobalt blue, standing out in contrast to his dark, tanned skin. A five-o'clock shadow framed a long, angular jaw, and his black hair, peppered with the first hints of gray, lay perfectly on his head. He was a detective, the only one of them not on the beat, and he wore a shirt and tie with the top button undone. The corners of his closed lips were turned up in a slight smile as his gaze bore into Jen's eyes. She glanced at his long, thin fingers, recalling the feel of them on her leg and felt herself melt onto the table as he sipped his drink, his eyes ever leaving hers.
