Hot Sheets (32 page)

"Oh, Jesus!"
Paul groaned, clutching his balls as he staggered to his feet.
"God, my head! Argh, my balls!"

"Where the
hell's Dave?"

"Gone out for
supplies."

"Wasting my
bloody money on food again, no doubt! Do you call that a sexual
torture chamber?"

"What?
Where?"

"Room
sixty-nine - is that what you call a sexual torture chamber? It's
more like a bloody nursery!"

"I thought you
were pleased with..."

"A wooden
frame and a chair with a fucking great chunk cut out of the seat
hardly constitutes a sexual torture chamber. I told you to think of
the most imaginative things you'd like to do to a girl, and
construct the necessary equipment to fulfil your fantasy. You've
failed miserably."

"You
reckon?"

"Dismally,
even!"

"I've been
busy, Mike," the young man grinned proudly.

"Busy
drinking!"

"You might
think me a pisshead, but I've been very busy constructing several
pieces of sexual abuse equipment."

"Sexual abuse
equipment? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going
to surprise you. It's your birthday soon and..."

"Shut up! I
don't want my birthday mentioned. Where is this equipment?"

"In the hall
cupboard on the top floor."

"Right, let's
go and have a look. Belinda will, unwillingly, act as your guinea
pig."

Following Mike
into the lift, the barman frowned. His boss had been so happy with
his handiwork and now he was complaining! There's no pleasing some
people, he reflected as they stepped out of the lift and walked to
the sex room. But he was about to prove to Mike that he could come
up with the most debased and vile ideas imaginable. I'll show him,
he gloated, hauling a large box out of the hall cupboard and
dragging it into room sixty-nine.

Walking over
to the bed and staring at Belinda's naked body, he grinned. "Your
ex-husband wants me to think of something really vile," he
chuckled, eyeing the leather straps binding her wrists and
ankles.

"Vile?" she
echoed, tugging on her bonds and focusing on Mike's dark eyes,
searching for sympathy as he folded his arms and lounged against
the wall. But there was no compassion reflected in his eyes.

"He says that
the work I've done in here is no good. He reckons that the wooden
frame and the chair don't constitute a sexual torture chamber."

"A sexual
torture... what are you going to do?" Belinda asked fearfully.

"Sexually
torture you, I suppose."

"No! Mike,
help me!"

"I have a job
helping myself most of the time!" Mike laughed, his penis
stiffening as he gazed at her hairless pussy lips, her yawning
vaginal slit.

Releasing the
woman's ankles, Paul held her feet high in the air with her legs
wide apart. Her vaginal crack gaping, he focused on her delicate
inner sex flesh, eager to degrade and humiliate the horrified
woman. Dropping her feet onto the bed, he moved to the wall and
grabbed a length of rope tied to a steel ring. Lifting her left
foot, he bound the rope tightly around her ankle. Her leg almost at
right angles to her naked body, he moved to the opposite wall and
grabbed the rope hanging from the other steel ring.

"This will
keep your juicy cunt wide open," he smiled, holding her right foot
high in the air and binding her ankle with the rope.

"Please!" she
cried, her legs painfully parted, virtually at right angles to her
slender frame. "Please, leave me alone!"

"That's a
start, Paul," Mike grinned evilly, focusing on his ex-wife's
crudely gaping pussy hole. "But you'll have to do better than
that!"

"Oh, I will!"
Paul smirked, gazing between Belinda's parted buttocks at her brown
anal eye. "She has a nice arsehole!" he chuckled, forcing her taut
buttocks further apart and stretching her brown ring open.
Determined to prove himself, his perversity, to his boss, he was
about to humiliate their prisoner in the extreme. "A very nice
arsehole!" he repeated. "Look at the beautiful brown tissue
surrounding her anal entrance, waiting to yield to my knob! Yes,
I'll slip my cock up her bum later. Right, now for the birthday
surprise!"

Delving into
the cardboard box, Paul lifted out a large metal box and set it on
the chair at the end of the bed. Walking to the hall cupboard, he
returned with a broom handle and fixed the end into a metal socket
protruding from the box. "You'll love this!" he chuckled, flashing
a grin at Belinda as she raised her head and gazed in horror at the
intended instrument of torture. Taking an awesome-looking double
dildo from the box, he attached it to the free end of the broom
handle.

"This looks
interesting," Mike said pensively, watching Paul position the chair
closer to the bed, the dildos only inches from Belinda's indecently
exposed lust holes. "Very interesting!"

"It is!" Paul
beamed, aligning the rounded ends of the black rubber dildos with
the woman's sex portals.

Gently pushing
the phalluses into her yielding sheaths to the accompaniment of her
gasped protests, Paul parted her fleshy vaginal lips, her rounded
buttocks, and completely impaled her on the massive rubber shafts.
Her pelvic cavity bloated, her green eyes wide with fear, she
watched as he ran a cable from the metal box to a wall socket.

"No!" Belinda
cried as the box hummed and the dildos thrust in and out of her
bloated sheaths. "Please, stop it!" Turning a control on the box,
Paul quickened the mechanical fucking, the young woman's body
jolting as the dildos repeatedly emerged from her tightening ducts
and thrust into her defenceless body. "Mike, please stop him!" she
pleaded as Paul moved to the cardboard box.

"Stop him?"
Mike chuckled wickedly. "Don't you like having your cunt and your
arse mechanically fucked?"

"No, I
don't!"

Laughing, Paul
settled by Belinda's side and screwed homemade nipple clamps to her
long, sensitive milk teats. Her face grimacing, she gazed in horror
at the clamps tightly squeezing her erect brown buds, darkening her
areolae.

"You have been
busy. Well, done." Mike praised the diligent barman, watching him
return to the box. "What other delights do you have in store for
our lucky prisoner?"

"I've got two
metal clamps here for her fanny lips," Paul grinned proudly,
delving into the box as the copulating machine whirred on. "The
idea is to hold her pussy lips wide apart so we can shove things up
her cunt. You know, hairbrush handles, candles, cucumbers,
deodorant bottles, cocks..."

"Mike!" Goldie
cried as she burst into the room, her blonde tousled locks
partially veiling her angelic face. "There's a man here from the
department of environmental health."

"Fucking
fascist bastards! Fucking communists! All right, go and tell him
that I'll be down in a minute. Paul, I'll leave you to attend
Belinda-the-bitch. I'll see you later."

"OK, Mike.
I'll have some real fun with her. Real dirty fun!"

"Mike,
please," Belinda sobbed as her clitoris swelled, the machine taking
her to her enforced climax. "Ah! Oh, oh! Mike, I'm..."

"Coming? Yes,
I know - and I'm going!"

Stepping out
of the lift, Mike scrutinized the besuited man hovering by the
desk. Obviously, he'd come to check that the demands he'd listed
had been complied with. The fridges and glass washer had been
installed, but the kitchen lighting, the extractor fan, the door
closer... what with all the recent horrendous happenings at the
hotel, he just hadn't got round to the rest of the chores. And put
into perspective, they were the least of his worries!

"Ah, Mr Hunt,"
the visitor greeted him. "My name's Small, I'm from the department
of..."

Small-minded bastard
. "Yes, I know,"
Mike replied agitatedly, glimpsing the long shining blade of the
letter opener.
Read all about it - gruesome
murder at seaside hotel!
"I haven't had all
the work done because I've been too busy."

"Oh, dear,"
the man sighed, probably delighting in Mike's predicament. "Well,
as you're aware, the deadline..."

"Yes, I'm well
aware of the deadline, Mr Small, but you'll have to give me a
little longer. I'm not bloody Superman!"

"Have you done
anything?"

Fucked a few waitresses, taken two policewomen
prisoner
... "Yes, the fridges, the glass
washer..." A brilliant, bloody marvellous idea suddenly surfacing,
Mike smiled. "Actually, I'm closing down."

"Closing?"

"Yes, it's no
longer profitable. What with you lot, the fire inspector, the tax
man, the VAT man, the water authority, the electricity board... I'm
closing down."

"Oh, well, in
that case... when do you propose to cease trading?"

"At this rate,
in about five minutes!"

"In view of
your news, my department will no longer have an interest in your
hotel, Mr Hunt. However, I'll look in again next week, just to make
sure you've closed. I'm sorry to hear that you're having
problems."

"Yes, so am
I."

"Until next
week, then, Mr Hunt."

"Yes, until
next week, Mr Ball... Small."

Watching the
man leave, Mike knew that the time had come to change direction.
He'd come to a crossroad and, in his mind, there was only one way
to turn. Room sixty-nine would have to earn decent money from now
on and he was going to have to put every effort into the new
business venture - unless Dickwipe banged him up for ten years!

"Trudie," Mike
smiled as the horny little beauty emerged from the dining room.

"Goldie
reckons that she was raped, is that right, mate?"

"It was an
act, a ploy to... I've come to a decision."

"Oh, what's
that?"

"From now on,
don't book any more guests into the hotel."

"What, you
mean that room sixty-nine..."

"No, I'm
talking about the ordinary guests. We're closing down, as a hotel,
that is."

"Oh! But,
why?"

"It's the only
way out of the bloody mess I'm in. Closing the hotel will solve all
my problems in one fell swoop. Stokepot Towers, as from now, is a
high-class brothel."

"What about
the colonel and..."

"Miss Chaste,
as you know, is no longer with us. The colonel... well, I'm not
sure what to do about him. The hotel's pretty quiet at the moment.
Fuck me, that's an understatement if ever there was one! The place
is empty!"

"Have you told
the others?"

"No, I
haven't. I'll call a meeting later and we'll discuss it. Obviously,
you and Goldie will stay on as..."

"Prostitutes?"

"Well...
entertainers. Yes, that's the word, professional entertainers.
Presumably, you want to stay on?"

"I can't speak
for Goldie, but I'll stay. What else can I do?"

"Great, I
hoped you'd say that. Right, I'd better start making plans. But
first of all, I need to know what Prickwipe's up to. Until I know
whether or not I'm going to prison, I can't really do anything. He
is a bastard, he really is!"

"Why not run
the hotel for a while longer, just until you know for sure? Sleep
on it, mate."

"Yes, perhaps
you're right. God, it's been so slack recently!"

"You haven't
tried it recently!"

"The hotel,
not your fanny."

"Oh, I see.
Don't forget that there are four clients booked for this
evening."

"No, I won't.
I'd better get up to room sixty-nine and see how Belinda is. Will
you be down here for a while?"

"Yes, I will.
Goldie's behind the bar so I'll man reception."

"Right, I'll
be down later."

"OK,
mate."

"Don't call
me..."

"Sorry."

Entering the
lift, Mike pondered on the idea of closing the hotel. He was right,
it would solve all his problems. But what was Dickwipe up to?
Reaching the fourth floor, he wandered down the hall and looked out
of the window. The road blocks were still in position, much to his
puzzlement. Surely, Dickwipe wouldn't need to block the seafront
road off to raid the hotel? There again, Dickwipe moved in
mysterious ways!

Walking down
the hall to room sixty-nine, Mike was pleased to discover Belinda
gasping in orgasm, the copulating machine thrusting the rubber
dildos in and out of her inflamed sex ducts. By the look of her
scarlet face, her heaving breasts, she'd almost been fucked to
death!

"Where's
Paul?" Mike asked, unplugging the machine. "I must say, Belinda,
that you look well and truly fucked!"

"Oh, thank
God!" the panting woman breathed, her head tossing from side to
side as the dildos came to rest, embedded deep within her steaming
sex shafts. "He... he's gone."

"How do you
like the fucking machine?" Mike grinned, eyeing her opaque sex
fluid oozing from her bloated cunt, drenching the rubber shaft.

"It's awful!
I've never come so much in all my life!"

"You can have
another couple of hundred orgasms later."

"Mike, you
have to let me go! Don't you see what you're doing? You're digging
yourself deeper and deeper into the... into the ground. That woman,
Wendy, she'll go to the police and..."

"I've been
thinking, Belinda," Mike said pensively, gazing at her swollen
clitoris emerging beautifully from her open sex valley. "If you're
a policewoman, then why has no one come looking for you?"

"No, it's an
undercover operation. They'd hardly come here and..."

"But an
undercover cop would make contact, call in and report. I don't
believe you're a cop at all, which makes me wonder about the gun,
where you got it from and what you were doing with it. If it's the
last thing I do, I'm going to get the truth out of you,
Belinda."