Charles was far from happy with the situation. Should he just take off and start a new life, outside the area, where no one could catch him? He quickly realised that was not on the cards, as this was the only life he had right now. After all, what else would he do? Charles was pleased he had kept his nerve and stayed. For on her return Sandra announced they were going on holiday.
"Just the two of us, we can stay on our yacht in the South of France."
"I haven't got a passport!" insisted Charles with a start.
"I knew," laughed Sandra, "that you would think of yourself first. I like you, Charlie, we are so alike. Don't worry I'll have my lawyers take care of everything. But while you are there you might have to do a little job for me. You see, I've got these girl-friends who need sexual servicing, whilst they relax in the sun."
Charles had never been abroad. The number of times he had ever visited the nearby cities of Leicester and Peterborough he could count on both hands. Of course he was not going for nothing, and Sandra would extract a price from him, but the thought of having to service her rich friends did not seem so bad.
The heat hit Charles as he stepped from the plane and looked around the little airport. Sandra had chartered a private Lear jet to bring them all down to the South of France, and it looked like being one long party.
Sandra had told him that he was to provide some fun for her two new friends. They were from London and used to the good life, which was where they had met. As the only thing they seemed to have in common, was a love of expensive clothes and young men as sex slaves. Which was where Charles came in.
"Is this him?" asked a middle-aged woman walking up to them as they walked from the plane. Her name was Margaret, the wife of a leading city of London Councillor, and someone used to getting just what she wanted.
"Yes, what you think? Reckon you can get any fun out of him, over the next few days Margaret?" Sandra smiled behind her designer sunglasses and offered the other woman the goods.
"I'll say. What have you been feeding him on Sandra, raw meat? Just look at those muscles. Has he got a big cock?" she inquired.
"Get him in the Limo and find out." Sandra walked to the car and opened the door.
"You can have him after me," said the other woman. She was called Betty and was the wife of a millionaire, Sandra was in partnership within London. What they did for a living, did not stand up to close scrutiny, but Betty was hell-bent on spending the money.
Together they all sat in the back of the big stretch Lincoln continental. Sandra went through the formalities of introducing her two friends, but Charles thought they were clearly to disguise their true identities. The Two women sat either side of the boy whilst Sandra sat opposite.
Straight away they took turns feeling his crotch to get his cock hard, and Charles obliged by taking turns to kiss the women with deep-throated mouthfuls of passion.
He felt nothing for the event and even wanted to getaway. But Sandra had ordered him here, and this was a small price to pay for a foreign trip. The champagne flowed, and Charles even poured some down one cleavage to lick it out. They loved that.
He took his time feeling his hands up their skirts and rubbing his fingers against their pussies. Finally, Betty; the oldest of the friends pulled down her knickers and reached for his cock. It was fully erect now, so with one bound, she was astride him, sliding down his shaft with a grunt of pleasure. Here she rode up and down as the car drove slowly on. Through the parched hot landscape and down to the dreamy coastal resort, where, glistening in the sunlight, lay the yacht.
Up till now, Sandra had been content to simply watch, as if she was part of the crew, like the driver sitting passively in the front. As the other two women showed they were really getting into the action, she too pulled up her short skirt to masturbate herself before them.
They made Charles lay on the back seat to make the most of the ample room in the Limo. Whilst one rode his cock astride him, the other sat her wet pussy down on his face. So Charles obliged her by pushing his tongue up as far as it would go, into the soft wet sex.
When the car arrived at the other end, the boy was almost exhausted, but the women were satisfied for now. Sandra was pleased with him. He had done exactly what she had asked of him, and the holiday looked like it was going well.
"Your friends are wearing me out," said Charles as he drank a glass of champagne that night on the yacht.
"Remember you are here to do a job of work. So let them ride you until they come round to my way of thinking." Sandra held out her glass for more champagne, a mysterious smile crossing her face.
"What exactly is that?" asked Charles, looking out to sea.
"Revenge Charlie, what else is it about."
"What possible revenge could you want to take out on them?"
"They cost me and my family dearly. So now I want to take some money from them, just to even the score."
"Haven't you got enough now?"
"There's never enough."
"But why try and get it?"
"Because it's gettable."
"I don't understand you. Plenty of money and plenty of sex, what else is there to achieve?"
"Where I came from it would never be enough. Maybe I can't go back there, I've changed so much. Perhaps its too late." Sandra let her mind drift off, and for the first time, genuine fear crossed her face. Something Charles had never seen in her before.
"So where did you live this wicked past, you won't talk about?" He sat down beside her to look deep into her eyes.
"I can't tell you it all. Maybe some of it. Terry; my husband, talks about that part often enough."
"I know you both made your money in London, with property. So what's so dark and mysterious about that?"
"Oh, we aren't mixed up with the Mafia or anything like that. But there are people we don't want to meet."
"So where do you really come from?" asked Charles.
"From the same village as you, originally."
"No! But no one has ever heard of you, how can that be?"
"Luckily nobody recognises me, Charlie," she laughed.
"But even the old people, don't know you. There's something strange there."
"Oh, it's stranger than that. Maybe I'll tell you. Or maybe you'll find out for yourself. After all, it's about time you grew up."
"I like to think of myself as fairly grown up now," replied the boy.
"Dream on. Just being able to stick that big weapon inside a woman, doesn't make you a man. You know nothing of the real world. Take this boat. You're like a little boy lost."
"So what do you want me to do?"
