George and the Debt

Pager Update : Debs has been double penetrated and watched her hypnotised daughter Chrissy, in her alter-ego as Angel the Streetwalker, being taken by Anton. Georgina has given her first blowjob to a man. : Update Ends

Half an hour after Anton had left two pagers chimed. Debs' pager said...

Back to work. Your client will be there at 10pm. I know you're tired from this afternoon but he deserves a good service so you will give him what he wants.

Georgina's pager, once she'd found it at the bottom of her handbag, said...

Do not eat. You are going out on a date which will involve a meal. Make sure he's happy, he's an important client. Wear blue, it's his favourite colour and meet him on the steps of the Railway Hotel at 8pm.

Chrissy's pager remained silent so she went to her room to think. Her mum showered and then her... dad... took his turn while she sat thinking. The fact that he'd said 'see you soon' made her think it would be Anton himself who would break her in, like a horse being trained to take a rider. Or, more accurately she thought, a young woman being groomed to accept lovers chosen for her by someone else. But at least once she'd been taken by Anton then she could go for those better grades.

Half an hour later she had made up her mind. She tried to press the buttons on the pager but her hands were shaking with nerves. She hit the YES button too soon...

Error: No active choice at this time.

She tried again, but she pressed the question mark before the YES instead of at the same time and all the device showed were her last instructions. The ones that told her to say at home that afternoon. Finally she managed both at exactly the same moment...

Request for work received. Please wait, instructions will follow shortly.

And a minute later it chimed...

Dress for bed and stand with your mother when she opens the door to her client at 10pm. Your client will accompany him. Entertain your client until breakfast. No refusals. And tidy your room. It looks like a pigsty!

This sounded a bit strange. Why would Anton refer to himself as 'your client'? But she'd done it now, no point crying over spilt milk. After tea she retreated to her room and spent an hour tidying. She couldn't work out how Anton had seen the inside of her bedroom, but perhaps he hadn't. Possibly her mother had mentioned it was a bit untidy. At about 7pm a taxi bipped its horn outside and, looking out of the window, she watched her dad getting in to go to his date. His legs... sorry her legs, she thought, are really rather good looking.

At a quarter to ten she joined her mother in the living room. They didn't say much. Her mother did mumble something about not fighting it, go with the flow, it'll be more comfortable, being a whore can be quite nice really. Then the doorbell went and the advice stopped. Her mum opened the door. Two men were standing there. The first man was in his twenties and very handsome. He spoke first...

"Debbie?" he asked.

"Yes," said her mum.

"Oh good," said the handsome man, and he took her mum's hand and almost dragged her upstairs. A few seconds later the door to the master bedroom slammed shut.

The second man stepped forward.

"Chrissy?" he asked.

"Er... yes," she replied, apalled with what she was seeing.

"Bloody good show!" the man replied, entered the living room, and shut the door behind him. He then grabbed Chrissy and showered her face with wet, slobbery, kisses, finishing with a long French kiss.

He was, perhaps, in his fifties. Chrissy found it hard to gauge the ages of people over thirty, they all looked terribly old to her. He was overweight, that was certain, and he had a pock-marked and wrinkled face with a bulbous nose. Someone had told her that a swollen nose, like the one that was rubbing against her, was a sign of alcoholism, but she couldn't remember who and her mind sought relief from the sight in front of her by trying to remember who it was who'd told her that fact.

"You can call me Owen," said the man. He put his arm around her waist and started for the stairs.

"Er... would you like a drink?" asked Chrissy. Perhaps, she thought, I can get him to stay down here for an hour or so, put off the moment when she would have to get undressed in front of this ugly man.

The man pulled a hip flask out of his expensive suit and waved it at her, "Brought my own," he grinned and stomped up the stairs.

Chrissy had no option but to go with him, wondering how he knew the way to her bedroom. Inside he started to strip, without saying a word to her, and threw his clothes on the floor. Hell, thought Chrissy, I've just spent hours tidying that. As the clothes came off her disgust at his body grew. She cursed Anton for this mean trick but then she realised it was a test.

She knew she would have been happy to fuck Anton, if he had asked, because he was her new employer. Because he was quite attractive. And because he had a certain mystique as a gangster. And she could have pretended that the younger man - the one her mother was currently fucking - was a date with a slightly older guy that she'd decided to go all the way with. Owen was neither of these, he was an ugly, unfit, overweight, over the hill, man who just happened to have enough money to afford to pay for sex. And the test was... could she fuck him? If she could then she could fuck pretty much anyone.

Which is presumably what Anton wants, she thought.

Owen had finished stripping and flung back the bedclothes. Then he looked around the room, clearly searching for something. He strode over to the thermostat on the wall and fiddled with it. Chrissy kept her bedroom cool but Owen seemed to prefer warmth, he turned it up as high as it would go. He then flopped onto the bed, grunted with satisfaction, and, holding the sheets open, invited Chrissy to join him.

"Do a strip, lass, and jump in," he said. "But don't take too much time over it, I'm gettin' cold 'ere." And, as she moved about the room uncertain just how to do a striptease, he leant out of the bed, took a couple of blue pills from the pocket of his trousers and washed them down with a good slug from his hip flask.

Chrissy stared at her bed. It was a large single. Lots of space for one person to sleep. But only just enough space for two. When she got in there would be nowhere to hide, no way to put even the smallest distance between them. But what was the point of trying to put this off, she thought. I'm fucked, might as well get on with being fucked. She lifted off her nightdress over her head, doing it in stages to reveal her legs, then her crotch, her tummy, and finally her breasts. Then letting it fall to the floor. Bracing herself she slipped into bed beside Owen.

"That's better, lass," he said. "You've got a great figure on you. You got a gap all the way up those fine legs to your cunt. That's unusual these days wi' the trend to fat thighs and big bums. I like to see a gap like that, means nothing is going to get in the way of fucking you."

She turned away from him, putting her back up against him, and waited. His hands engulfed her, pulling her to him, she could feel his hairy legs rubbing up against the back of her thighs, and his chest hairs against her shoulder. Wet kisses were slobbered onto her shoulders and neck as his hands probed between her thighs. His fingers were rough workman's fingers with callouses and damaged nails, perhaps he was a builder or something. He pushed two fingers between her plump labial lips and on, into her vagina, curling them inside her as if to catch and hold her. She felt like a fish on a hook, being dragged to the riverbank to lay gasping for breath. His other hand, denied action once the first had covered her cunt, moved up to crush her breasts and squeeze her nipples.

I suppose this counts as foreplay, she thought, but at least he's not shoving that cock in me. She'd caught glimpses of it when Owen undressed. What she had seen was stubby and rather gnarled and wrinkled. It was like a piece of ancient root, twisted, covered with rough bark, but still sucking nutrients from the dark soil. She could feel it now between her buttocks. It had grown and was hot against her and, from time to time, it twitched with his desire.

"Reet lass," Owen breathed into her ear. "Time to go for it. Your mum's already taking me son's cock."

It was true that her mother's moans could be heard through the bedroom wall. But what shocked Chrissy more was the revelation that the man giving her mother such evident pleasure was Owen's son. She'd thought the two men were unrelated. Perhaps meeting for the first time on the doorstep. Mere comrades in the quest for paid sex. But it was now clear that Father and son had come to the house together and both knew the other was there to get sex. There was little time to think about this fact as Owen shifted his bulk in the bed, rolled Chrissy until she was on her back, and pressed his knees between her legs.

"Open up lass," he said. "Spread 'em wide. Don't make me tell Anton you refused me. That wouldn't go down well."

His stomach was sagging over her, touching Chrissy's abdomen, and his knees were trying to force her thighs apart. His hands were holding her forearms down onto the bed. He dipped his face towards hers. "Are you no ready?" he said. "Wanna drink from my hip flask? It'll give you courage."

Chrissy shook her head.

"Then gi us a kiss and get your legs out of the way. I'm cummin' in!"

Next door Debs was having a wonderful time. The young man, Richard, was immensely attractive and, unusually, not at all obsessed with his own pleasure. He was currently eating her out with a passion that put all her previous clients to shame. Anton can send me more like this, she thought, I can cope with this as a lifestyle.

She had been thinking of getting in touch with her mother, of asking her advice on how to stop all this. Her mother lived in Scotland and ran a tourist shop and an occult supply business. She was, Debs knew, a witch and led a little coven of a half dozen women. They danced naked on the heather covered hills, cast spells, and had a reputation for being entirely amoral. But now Debs was being amoral too, tending towards immoral, and when she got clients like Richard she was enjoying it too much to even think of stopping.

Richard was lying on his back on the bed and Debs had been stretched out next to him at first for a series of kisses and gentle caresses. Then he had suggested she should kneel over him, hanging onto the headboard, and put her cunt over his mouth. She could see no reason to refuse him and was now groaning with pleasure as he kissed and licked her towards her rapidly rising orgasm.

Oh God, she thought, this was going to be one amazing night. And the only problem was worrying about what Chrissy was going through. She'd seen the man behind Richard. Not someone she would have chosen for her first time as an escort. Then her orgasm burst on her and she was wriggling on Richard's face, and the fate of her daughter was forgotten for a while.

Georgina was just tucking into her dessert course. Following the pager's instructions she had waited outside the Railway Hotel for her date. The hotel was an impressive building. Damcaster was, in earlier times, a significant station on the L.N.E.R. line. The London and North Eastern Railway had a major depot and construction works for locomotives and carriages at Damcaster and some of the wealth generated had been put into a grand station, and even grander hotel next door.

Her date had arrived on time and they entered the hotel. The ground floor was taken up with the Stephenson restaurant and the Railshed bar and, after a brief drink at the bar, Georgina had been taken through to the restaurant to be wined and dined before joining her client in his room.

Her client insisted she call him Monty. He was the senior partner in the most prestigious law firm in Damcaster. That of Montgomery, Standing and Flax. He was a good six inches taller than Georgina, with black hair, a well trimmed beard, and a broad smile. He was well dressed, as befitting a successful businessman, in a tuxedo. About ten years older than Georgina she thought he looked like a retired James Bond. He even wore a watch that looked like it could calculate trajectories or shoot poison darts.

Some of the couples on the other tables looked at Georgina with quizzical expressions and she guessed that her appearance wasn't yet one of a totally convincing female. But Monty seemed quite happy with her, chatting amiably as they ate their starters. He was generous too, ordering fine wine to accompany their meal.

Georgina sat and listened to Monty, his strong hands, with their hairy backs, covering her own from time to time as he leaned forward across the table. The choice of hotel and restaurant turned out not to be random for Monty was a railway buff, spending a lot of his wealth on a local vintage steam railway run by volunteers. And his anecdotes of life in the law firm, and adventures on the vintage railway, made her laugh. Then he talked about driving an 0-4-0 saddle tank engine through a snow storm to rescue some volunteers who had got themselves stuck in a snowdrift. The technical stuff went over Georgina's head in the drama of the story, but she found herself loving the passion and humour of this man.

After desert there was coffee, an Irish Coffee in Georgina's case, and Monty took her hand and led the way to the lift. His room was one of the larger suites on the fourth floor. In the lift he bent down and gently kissed her. The beard was a little tickly but she enjoyed the kiss. It sent a thrill through her body that she'd not experienced for a long time. The thrill of a first date, and the anticipation of what might follow. Though, if she was honest, she knew that there was no mystery. She was going to spend the night with this man who had paid for her company.

The corridor to Monty's room was nicely decorated, but in a very old fashioned style. Georgina remembered reading, back when she was George, that the Railway Hotel had been tastefully renovated in its original Victorian colours and decor. As they walked Monty whispered, "We are going to have so much fun. But..."

Yes, thought Georgina, there's always a but.

"But," continued Monty. "Anton tells me you're very new to this. He said you'd been prepared, and very nicely too I might add, but that you've had no experience."

"That's true, Monty," Georgina admitted, hoping this didn't mean the end of the night.

"So," said Monty, hugging her close. "We'll take it slow. And if you're having difficulty with anything you just tell me. Okay?"

"Okay," replied Georgina, grateful that Monty had not repeated Anton's mantra of 'you will obey'.

"That's good, lass," continued Monty. "I fancy you something rotten. I don't want to spoil that. I want us to be friends, genuine lovers, not just escort and punter."

I'd like that too, Georgina thought. She was having very warm feelings for Monty. So what she said out loud was, "Teach me, Monty. Teach me to love you."

Monty smiled, opened the room door and gestured for Georgina to enter.

"Ladies first," he said.

Chrissy felt Owen's knees pushing her legs apart and began to panic. "Can we have the lights off, please?" she begged.

"No lass," Owen replied. "I wanna watch your face as I take you. I'm gonna make you love this cock. I know I'm no looker but I know how to use my dick. Before tonight's out you'll be begging me for more. Begging me to stick it in you."

I doubt it, Chrissy thought, as Owen shuffled closer and pushed her legs wider. Then his cock was touching her, probing. It felt hard and she recalled boys at college who had referred to an erection as 'getting wood'. Owen's cock certainly felt hard as wood. Her mind was in a whirl. Oh God, oh God, oh God, she thought as the pressure of his cock on her cunt increased until it slid in. Only an inch but it was there. She was officially a whore.

"Oh please," she wailed. "Please... please..."

Owen was leering over her, watching her every expression. He must see I don't want this, thought Chrissy, even if I have to accept it. But Owen seemed to actually enjoy the fact she found him revolting.

"Yeh I'm gross, but you're gonna take me," said Owen. "All of me, every inch, right... now!"

He had shuffled forward while lifting his hips, cunningly making it seem as if he needed to move further forward before making his move. But it was an illusion. All he needed to do now to spear Chrissy on his cock was to swing his hips down, which he did with one long, hard push.

Taken by surprise Chrissy screamed wordlessly. The sound was muffled, cut off, by Owen bending his elbows, allowing himself to drop down onto her, and kissing her lips in a full French kiss. His hands moved from holding her arms to gripping her head, preventing her from breaking away from the kiss. She scrabbled at his back with her hands and wriggled her legs, trying to break free, but all she succeeded in doing was to rub her clitoris against him. Her clit betrayed her, sending pulses of pleasure to her mind. I am not going to enjoy this, she thought. Then, despite herself, she groaned with pleasure from a well stuffed cunt and the rubbing of her clit.

Debs was also covered by her lover. He'd been gently making love to her now for an hour. There had been plenty of short breaks, pauses in the flow, his cock still inside her, during which they had talked together as if they had been married for years. Hopes and dreams shared whilst wrapped in each other's arms. She'd learned that the man next door was his father. That they had visited many of Anton's ladies and that tonight they had been expecting to both share Debbie's bed. But a message, shortly before they set off, had told his father that he was to be with Chrissy tonight instead. Something about breaking her in, which he said, his father was very good at.

"Don't worry Debbie," he said. "You won't miss out. Once he's fucked her to sleep he'll probably join us for a while. His cock is famous on the circuit, it's well curved. When it's in you you really know it."

As he started to thrust again, elegant long thrusts with a twisting motion, Debs could not avoid thinking of this man's father, her first overnight threesome avoided only because Anton had decided her daughter was ready.

Monty offered Georgina a drink from the cabinet and then steered her to the bed. She put her handbag down and reached back to unzip her dress but Monty smiled and just sat her on the edge of the bed fully dressed. He then kissed her. Lips, neck and the parts of her shoulders that peeped from the dress. Then he knelt in front of her and kissed her cleavage. Georgina suddenly wished she had more 'up top' to offer him and made a mental note to talk to the clinic staff about how quickly her breasts would grow, and how big they would end up.

Monty then undid her high heeled shoes, first left, then right, and lifted her right foot toward his face. He stroked the foot and ankle and Georgina loved the sensations. Then he popped her big toe into his mouth and sucked. Even through the silk stocking the effect was electric. Georgina threw back her head and gasped, then groaned. It was as if her toe had a direct nerve path to her brain.

Monty sucked for a few minutes and then released her. Then he got onto the bed, loosened his tie and trouser belt, and gently pulled Georgina next to him. Then he kissed and caressed her through her dress. His hands roamed everywhere, across her back, down to her waist, and further to encompass her buttocks.

"Oh Georgina," he whispered. "You are so lovely."

The last remnants of George burned away in that embrace. She fully accepted her new life and her hands wandered in turn over Monty's hunky body. She could feel his powerful arms, his pectoral muscles, firm and strong, his taut waist, and his tight hard buttocks. Then she felt his thighs and, by degrees, lifted her fingers to his crotch.