Darkest Fantasies (2 page)

'Now you won't
be hungry,' he said with a grunt of satisfaction.

She could only
breathe in constricted gasps. 'I don't think—'

'Shut up. Open
your mouth.'

He stood up
and picked up her silk panties from where they lay, abandoned on
the floor, and he was looking into her eyes as he stuffed them, bit
at a time with one finger, into her mouth. She sat there and let
him do it. Then he took her other abandoned stocking, wrapped it
around her mouth and tied it off. She gagged faintly on the silk
knickers, then stared at him, stunned. She had known what he was
going to do before he did it, but complied because he had asked.
She wondered where it came from; this need to please him. After
all, she hardly knew him. She knew he was a high-flying salesman
for the Corporate Division, and everyone spoke about him with a
kind of awe, but that was all.

He turned on
the television, picked up the tray and ate the dinner she had
prepared, watching the football, his eyes gleaming with excitement
when someone scored. If she hadn't been watching so closely she
would hardly have seen the excitement. Christ, he was a cold fish.
Alicia sat beside him, trussed into a sex toy, hungry, desperate
for a drink and gasping for breath. She was thoroughly bemused. It
was as if she didn't exist. Yet for some reason she didn't dare
move or make any kind of complaint. She was not afraid he would be
angry, she was afraid he would simply up and leave if she didn't
please him; and for some reason, the thing she most wanted to do in
the whole world was please him.

Yet when the
match finished he switched off the television and turned his
attention to her with an abruptness that told her his mind had been
preparing itself for a while. It was the strangest thing she had
ever seen. One moment he was watching the match, next moment his
prick was stiff between his legs, bulging against the zip of his
trousers like some obscene animal trying to get out of its
confines.

He stood
up.

Never taking
his eyes from her, he began to strip. His tie, his shirt. She saw
his chest was not hairy, but hard and masculine, as were his arms
and legs. Then he removed his shoes, his socks, and slid his
trousers and pants down over a neat bum and muscular thighs. Now
his blue eyes were sparkling.

'Ready,
darling?' he said.

She nodded. Oh
yes, she was ready. Just watching him did that.

He pulled her
onto her knees on the floor and turned her to face the seat. Then,
spreading her legs, he began to massage her thrusting breasts, and
all the other places she had often imagined the feel of his hands -
including one she had not thought of. She jolted and made faint
shocked noises as a finger slid into her anus.

'You're dry. I
didn't think of that. I expect you've got some cream in the
bedroom. Stay there. Don't move.'

He stood up
and walked away. Alicia leaned against the sofa, feeling the
tightness of rope around her middle and the rough fabric against
her breasts, and panic in her heart. God, he was going to bugger
her, that was what he was going to do. Half of her mind was
repelled; it wasn't something she had ever anticipated doing, yet
she stayed there, waiting, her legs apart as he had left them,
until he returned carrying a tube of hand cream.

He knelt,
shuffled between her legs, keeping them apart with his thighs, and
his finger slid inside her with a cold, soft touch. She winced, but
it wasn't with pain. Just the shock of entry. As his finger slid in
and out, preparing her, she began to writhe under his touch, never
having experienced anything so erotic before. Every time his finger
entered her she shuddered, every time it exited she gasped through
the gag.

Desire burned
her into a quivering mass of compliance. He was going to bugger
her, oh yes. Then she felt the heat of him press up against her.
She knew a moment's panic, but realised if she cried out he would
stop. She was torn between the fear of what was going to happen and
the strangely erotic sensation it engendered in her. Besides, she
was curious. Other people did it, so she waited for what seemed
like an eternity, feeling the pressure increase, and suddenly there
was the strangest sensation she had ever known as he pressed in.
Her arse widened accommodatingly, lubricated with her own hand
cream, and the feel of him pushing further and further in that most
private of places was a crazy mixture of pain and pleasure, and
most deliciously decadent. Her bound hands writhed behind her back.
Oh, God.

Kevin slid in
and out of her a few times, and the tight ring of her virgin arse
felt like heaven. He moved in and out gently until he felt the
muscle relax, become accommodating, then began to push harder,
feeling the tightness of her up and down the full length of his
penis. Yeah, this one was okay. He had known she would be.
Desperate to please, he could always tell. They sort of made cows
eyes, the ones he knew he would get in the end.

He pulled her
back towards him slightly as he pleasured himself, the blood really
pumping his prick into an iron bar, raising his balls deliciously.
He reached around her tiny middle and up to those ripe breasts, and
with his hands full he slid back and forth, sinking into the tight
elasticity which contracted beautifully at every stroke. Better
than a wank. Far, far better.

She was making
noises now, and her body was shuddering. He slipped a hand between
her legs and his fingers slipped in the dampness there. He pulled
her back against him.

Then, once
again he felt the buzz, and forgot to pleasure her as he brought
himself to his peak, hanging on to it as long as he could. He
pulsed inside her, the tight ring of her arse making the
ejaculation almost painful. They hung there for a moment, joined.
Then as he shrank her body squeezed him out with a soft plop.

Kevin lifted
her to her feet and walked her through to the bedroom, a persuading
hand gently slapping her bottom. 'You're so nice and accommodating,
sugarplum, I'll think I'll stay the night. How about that? I guess
we ought to get to bed fairly pronto, though, as I have to be at
the management meeting first thing in the morning.'

When Kevin
walked into the boardroom he fairly waltzed with the euphoria from
that long night's loving, in spite of his tiredness. He tried not
to think of the following days, when Alicia would be looking out
for him, waiting on stairs or in doorways for that quick fondle she
was now used to. They always felt possessive for some reason, after
a bonking session. He felt vague feelings of regret. She had been
so very easy to manipulate. Accompanied by a faint stirring in his
groin he recalled clambering onto the bed, how he had pulled her
head between his legs and asked her to suckle him into fullness
once more. It was so very comforting, and required little effort on
his part. She hadn't been too keen when her soft lips roused him to
another erection and he ordered her to circle him with her tongue,
but all he had to do was threaten to leave and she sucked harder,
and fought against her inclination to gag when he thrust her head
down for his ejaculation.

Now she would
be expecting more of the same, and for a while he would be happy to
comply, although it was never as good as the first time. After a
while someone new would enter his orbit, and his magnetism would
find a new target. It always took them a while to realise there was
nothing permanent in these games. Didn't the women talk amongst
themselves? He gave a private grin. Of course they didn't. Unlike
men, women didn't boast of the conquests, but almost seemed
embarrassed by them. He couldn't understand that.

By the
evening, of course, he would be tired, but it was a good kind of
weariness and he looked forward to the comfort of his own home. As
he thought of his wife his gaze softened. Esther would rub his
feet, run him a hot bath so he could soak, and if he felt
pleasantly tired, he might even find the energy to make love to
her. She deserved that much from him.

Frank
Brachlyn, the chairman, couldn't help noticing the almost
instantaneous level of tension that arrived in the boardroom with
Kevin. The men because they saw him as a threat; they really
couldn't understand what it was he had that they didn't, and the
women because they were angered by desires which had no place in a
modern woman's agenda.

Frank knew all
this, while remaining absolutely baffled to the exact nature of
Kevin's sexual magnetism. It was nothing he could categorise. The
man was fairly good-looking in a classic kind of way, clean cut and
presentable, verging on six foot, and looking stylish in whatever
he wore, but none of that was out of the ordinary. No, it was
something deeper; something more basic and primitive, something
very predatorial that could assess a woman's sexual experience and
availability in an instant, even while he was discussing interest
rates and market trends with her. Yet he still couldn't understand
why the women fell for him. One look at those cold eyes should have
put them off for life.

Thus, for
various reasons every person in the room loathed the sight of him,
but the reason he still remained employed by High Corp plc lay in
the fact that the very magnetism they loved to hate was often put
conveniently to use on the company's behalf. As he sat down, late
as always, there was a sudden shuffling of paper and clearing of
throats.

'Kevin, my
boy,' the chairman said with a flash of white teeth. 'We've just
been talking about you. It seems that the FairBank deal is having
teething troubles. They're getting cold feet. I was just letting
everyone know that I have decided to take their directors out for a
meal. You know the ropes: wine, dine, and soften, and bye the bye,
when I've had a bit to drink, let them know that we've received
another offer which we're considering in the light of their present
lukewarm state.'

'Have we?'
Kevin asked with interest.

'Of course
not. I don't want to lose this one, but it wouldn't do them any
harm to believe we're back on the market. If we play hard to get it
will inject new enthusiasm into their bid. Put them on their toes,
make them think they're fighting for it, Kevin, my boy. What do you
say? I really want your support.'

Kevin's eyes
gleamed at the challenge, but that was the only sign of enthusiasm
he gave away. But inside he was euphoric. They needed him, the
bastards. 'Sounds reasonable. Why not? When are we going to do
it?'

'Saturday.
It's all organised. I trust you don't have any prior
engagements?'

'No, nothing
of any importance.' Kevin leaned back, stretched his arms behind
his head and crossed his legs comfortably, his thoughts taking a
new turn. He had been intending to push Michelle, that new
secretary, into the final confrontation, and see if he couldn't
wangle the weekend with her. Would she or wouldn't she? He snapped
his brain into gear. That would have to wait on the back burner;
this was his livelihood, his big career move.

Frank slapped
Kevin's knee with a jocular comradeship he did not feel. 'That's
great, my boy. And I thought this was the very opportunity to let
the wives out of the cupboards, eh? Show the FairBank crowd that we
are a happy bunch with traditional family values. Quite important,
these days.'

Kevin blanched
fractionally. 'Oh, I'm not sure that Esther can—'

'Don't you
worry your head about it,' Frank said. 'I've had my secretary
invite the wives personally, and your little Esther has agreed to
put off her proposed family visit until after the weekend. Just
take her out shopping, dear boy, and buy her a new frock for the
occasion. And tell her not to worry, we won't eat her. You ought to
get her out a bit more - get her polished up a bit.'

Kevin's heart
sank into his boots, hearing a warning in the tone. Wives were an
essential part of these functions; but he swallowed his discomfort
admirably. 'I'm sure she'll enjoy it,' he said, his fixed smile
attaining a slightly strained appearance. Damn the man, he knew
Esther was no socialiser. She would dry up and go all mousy and
cling to him as she always did, cramping his style. Hell.

But it was
fait
accompli
, and they all knew it. The men
smirked down at their papers, enjoying his discomfort, but the
women grinned openly. After all, had they not all seen Kevin's poor
little dab of a wife? You could almost understand why he felt the
need to bonk everything in sight. God knows how he came to get
saddled with her. Perhaps she'd had money, or perhaps he felt sorry
for her, but whatever the reason, she was going to be out of her
depth at this party, and with any luck she would sink like a stone
and drag Casanova bloody Kevin with her.

The board
meeting carried on above Kevin's head. He could think of nothing
but the excruciating realisation that if Esther came she was going
to let him down. She was great at home, but a real liability when
it came to socialising. How could he get out of it? Perhaps he
should persuade her to be ill? He grimaced; she couldn't dissemble
at all. She was hopeless at lying. He would have known instantly if
she'd ever had an affair or something, because she was just too
damned naive to hide it from him. That was one of the strengths of
their marriage. It made a man feel safe knowing that his wife was
there for him, that she wasn't running around behind his back. But
a social function? He had been dreading this moment, waiting for
it, and now it was finally here. What was he going to do? She was
nothing like these executive broads with their predatory smiles.
Nor was she like the wrinkled leather bags the directors were
married to. Between them they would eat her alive, and enjoy it,
the bitches.