Indecent Intent (3 page)

The man laughed effortlessly. ‘Who let us in does not matter,' he said. ‘And besides, we'd been enjoying ourselves watching your performance long before we made our discreet entrance.' He waved an elegant hand at a mirror on the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

‘You've been watching us through that?' Tom frowned as he reached for his T-shirt.

‘Indeed – it's a two-way,' explained the visitor. He stood up and Gabrielle felt more naked and exposed than ever, his expensive double-breasted pinstripe navy suit somehow making her feel that way. ‘I'm Marshall Verity,' he said. ‘I'm a…'

‘I know who you are, Mr Verity; I read the papers,' Tom said. ‘And I know you're extremely wealthy. But what the fuck—?'

Marshall Verity's confident laugh interrupted Tom's tirade even before he got into full flow, looking at Gabrielle in a way that made her feel awfully vulnerable, awfully used, and more humiliated than ever. ‘I am extremely wealthy,' he said with a satisfied grin, ‘you are right. And I am into enjoying as many women as I can lay my hands on,' he added, and then reached back and, immediately, the stylishly dressed girl took it. And she didn't object when Verity lifted her short skirt, smoothed her naked belly and caressed the frilled suspenders that framed her naked sex.

‘Well, I'll…' Tom gawped between the milk-white thighs that were so willingly displayed. ‘She's as smooth as silk! Not a wisp of hair… do you see that, honey?' he said to Gabrielle.

Unwillingly, she stared at the girl's shaven mound, but she had to secretly admit that the mouth-watering sight turned her on. She imagined how she would feel if shaved like that, and felt her clitty pulse with renewed excitement.

‘Beautiful, isn't it?' Marshall Verity coaxed, probing for reactions. He let his fingers stroke back and forth over the shaven mound, let them drift over the silky outer lips. ‘And she's all mine.' He slapped the girl's thighs. ‘Open a little wider, my dear,' he encouraged, ‘and show these nice people how completely you are mine.'

Tom gave a grunt of surprise and delight as the girl seductively angled her hips a little. ‘She's ringed!' he enthused, his eyes glinting hungrily. His lips were arched in a wicked smile and he rubbed the crotch of his jeans, which were already significantly tented again. ‘Doesn't she mind?' he asked like an excited teenager. ‘Does it hurt her?' He moved forward to be closer to the newcomer and the girl, and for some reason Gabrielle found herself becoming breathless at the thought of belonging to a man like Marshall Verity.

‘It doesn't hurt, Susan, does it?' Marshall Verity asked of the girl. He slipped a finger through the ring that held the succulent inner lips together.

The girl shook her shimmering cascade of naturally blonde hair, and Gabrielle found herself straining at the bonds about her wrists, wanting to be closer too.

‘The ring is quite wide in diameter, you see,' said Verity, and with a hand in the small of her back he guided the girl towards Tom, who stood speechless, his mouth hanging open. ‘Wide enough to take a tongue through its centre,' he added, as he walked slowly towards the bed, ‘but not so wide as to allow the intrusion of an erect penis.'

Gabrielle clenched her thighs tightly together, but the cover Tom had carelessly thrown over her completely slipped away and she was totally naked once more. Verity gave a soft chuckle as he watched her strain at the bonds around her wrists.

‘C-can I?' Tom stumbled, his voice little more than an animalistic grunt, his anger at the trespassers forgotten – his wife forgotten.

‘A can, I believe,' Verity said imperiously, not looking at Tom, keeping his eyes sharply focused on the lovely vision tied to the bed, ‘is what you Americans preserve meat in, is it not?' He sat next to her on the mattress and she could not help but tremble and flinch away. He was so different from anyone she had ever known. ‘The phrase you are looking for, I believe, is: “May I?”' His manicured fingers cupped each of her breasts in turn, felt their smoothness, their firmness, and the tautness of each nipple. And then he nodded with satisfaction.

Venturing a quick glance at Tom, Gabrielle saw her husband frown at Verity's supercilious correction, but his eyes were still glued to the silent blonde, his tongue virtually hanging out. ‘Okay,' she heard him whisper impatiently, ‘whatever you say…
May
I?'

Gabrielle closed her eyes as she saw her husband's hand slowly cup the bloom of the girl's smooth cunt, glimpsed a finger slide in her to the knuckle, watched the girl's little silent sigh of delight. Tears squeezed from her tightly closed lashes and meandered afresh down her cheeks, around her cute ear lobes, before again soaking down into the plush pillows.

Verity ignored Tom's rude sneer, and used the man's distraction as an opportunity to ease his wife's thighs apart with cool hands. He smiled at her as he picked up the flail, draped it across the flat dip of her tummy, and fingered the smoothly carved handle. ‘This little bush will have to go,' he said, almost hypnotically, drifting his fingertips across the lushness of her pubic curls. ‘I like my girls as smooth as silk and easily accessible.' He smoothed the curly fronds away from her slit, baring the flushed inner skin, exposing the prominently erect clitty.

Gabrielle cast pleading eyes across the room, but Tom was far too engrossed, too oblivious to be aware of anything but the lovely blonde girl. He was on his knees and the girl sprawled on the little Louis XV sofa, her eyes closed as Tom's tongue darted through the gold ring into the silky purse of her sex.

Gabrielle tried to choke back a sob of despair. ‘Oh, how easily your husband forgets you,' taunted Verity. ‘Only moments ago he was being intimate with you, and now…' He shrugged, shook his head in mock disappointment, and tutted. ‘Are all American husbands so disloyal, my dear?' He pushed the knob of the phallus between her spread sex lips, making her gasp, partly from dismay and partly with pleasure. He eased the polished wooden cock deeper. ‘See how deep his tongue sinks into her,' he whispered. He bent over her and Gabrielle could feel the slight roughness of his immaculate suit against her breasts, the coldness of the blue stained ivory buttons of his jacket against her burning skin. ‘You might not exist, for all he cared.'

His teeth grated the tightness of each nipple in turn and he grinned at her, his brown eyes dark and unfathomable as he raised his well-groomed head. ‘Has he ever been unfaithful before?' he asked.

Gabrielle bucked instinctively against the wooden cock and Verity laughed. ‘It turns you on, does it not?' He slid the smooth thickness back and forth in a slow sensual rhythm. ‘It turns you on to watch your husband licking another girl's cunt?' With his free hand he massaged the flat tautness of her belly, pressing hard as though feeling the length of the phallus through her flesh. ‘Tell me…' The slow rhythm of the wooden cock and his palm became more insistent. His face was set in an emotionless expression that chilled Gabrielle to her bones, although for the life of her she couldn't have said why. It was as if she had a glimpse of her future – and she didn't like what she saw at all.

‘Tell me,' he insisted, and strong fingers slapped her cheek, not hard, but the action still shook her. She whimpered, not in pain, but because of the shock and indignity of being slapped by a complete stranger, and because her eyes darted to Tom kneeling between the girl's thighs, his tousled head buried between their toned smoothness. But, she had to admit, it wasn't the first time he had licked another female in her presence.

‘Yes,' Gabrielle whispered shamefully, closing her eyes. ‘If that's what you want to hear, then yes, it turns me on…'

The wooden cock left her, making her gasp softly at the loss, and then the fine leather strands were lightly whipped back and forth across her quivering tummy and breasts.

‘Louder,' Verity ordered. ‘I want to hear you say it much louder. Tell me exactly what he made you witness. Tell me in detail.' He loomed over her helpless body again and kissed the thin red weals left by the flail. The movement of his lips was so tender, so loving, and yet Gabrielle harboured the disturbing sense that he despised her – as he despised all women.

‘Once…' she started, ‘once he brought a whore back to our trailer.'

Verity laughed. ‘He did what? Did I hear you correctly? He took a whore back to your home?'

Gabrielle knew what he was thinking; what was she if she wasn't a whore?

But she nodded and continued. ‘Yes, a whore… a hooker.'

‘To your home?'

‘Yes, our trailer.'

‘So you live in a trailer.' Verity was clearly greatly amused. The laughter was harsh – cruel. ‘This gets better by the second.'

Cheeks fired by embarrassment, Gabrielle nodded and tried to squirm in her bonds.

‘Go on,' he said, teasingly drawing the leather strands across her breasts. They were damp and she could smell her musk, strong as it always was when she was excited. ‘Tell me about the hooker.'

‘Well, Tom lay on our bed and watched us.' Gabrielle swallowed hard. She could not be more humiliated than she was right at that moment; naked, bound, and so very vulnerable, and she did not want to tell this stranger what Tom had made her do.

‘He watched? You mean, he made
you
go with the whore?' With twinkling eyes he followed her gaze to Tom's bobbing head. The lovely girl on the sofa was groaning with obvious delight, her eyes closed and the tip of her tongue circling her moist, red, slightly parted lips.

‘Yes,' Gabrielle breathlessly confirmed. ‘Yes, he made me lick her…' Her eyes became blurred with tears as she stared at her husband's head, moving aggressively between the girl's thighs. ‘He made me lick her, just like that.'

‘Not quite like that, my dear girl,' Verity corrected. ‘I doubt you had to slip your tongue through a gold ring.'

Gabrielle shook her head, her red hair lustrous on the white pillow. ‘No,' she quietly agreed, ‘the girl wasn't pierced.'

Verity smiled encouragingly. ‘Now, tell me more about the whore and what your husband made you do with each other.' He moistened his fingers with her juices and smoothed her pubic curls so that her sex and her erect bud were bared to his gaze and anything he wished to do.

‘Her bottom,' Gabrielle murmured, slowly beginning to feel she was cleansing her conscience by confessing all.

‘Her bottom?' he coaxed. ‘And what exactly did he make you do to her bottom? Did he make you lick it? Or finger it, perhaps?'

Gabrielle nodded, her eyes closed, squeezing back the tears that beaded and glistened on her lashes.

‘Come along, my dear…' he insisted, ‘tell me everything.'

‘H-he made me use my tongue,' she gasped, ‘and – and then a finger while he…'

‘Fucked her?' finished Verity, hugely excited by the scene the delicious tied girl was describing. He looked back at Tom kneeling over the girl, one supporting leg straight and the other knee on the seat of the sofa, his jeans open as he masturbated frantically over her, and then groaned and gazed up at the ceiling as he erupted over her suspenders and smoothly shaven sex mound. ‘Your husband is a man after my own heart,' said Verity, with a smile. ‘Perverted to the maximum and delicately sadistic.'

‘Will you let me go now?' asked Gabrielle. Her arms were numb after so long tied to the bed. The excitement she had felt earlier had dissipated. She wanted a shower or, even better, a soak in a fragrant bath of hot water to ease the aches from her body, and most of all, she wanted the strange intruders out of their room.

Verity shook his head and gave her another confident smile. ‘Not unless that's what your husband wants. He tied you – it's for him to decide when to untie you. Not me.'

Gabrielle watched as he put down the flail, and watched as he reached into a pocket of his immaculate jacket to draw out a small roll of notes. Then standing up he let them fall onto her tummy, one by one, making her skin quiver as each one tickled her sensitized flesh. She saw Tom's eyes glint with greed as he looked over and noticed the shower of notes kissing her pale skin.

‘Do you want her untied, Tom?' asked Verity.

Tom was already standing, the lovely blonde forgotten, fumbling with his zipper to fasten his faded jeans.

‘Maybe,' he said hesitantly, shrugging, ‘if she doesn't fool with my plans for the casino tonight.' He moved like a man under a spell and stood beside Marshall Verity over his wife, but his wide eyes were only for the many notes scattered over her and the bed.

Verity smiled, unnoticed, and ghosted back to regain possession of his blonde partner. ‘Thank you both for a most entertaining time,' he said in his crisp English tones. ‘Please take my little financial gift as a thank you for your hospitality.

‘Perhaps we might meet up again sometime soon.' His eyes lingered on Gabrielle. ‘Sometime
very
soon.'

Gabrielle, wearing a short black dress, the only decent thing she owned, put the finishing touches to her make-up. It wasn't easy; her eyes were still a little puffy from the tears she had shed during the afternoon. Her hair fell loose to her shoulders, shining and glossy, brilliantly red against the black of the dress.