Secretly Seduced: The Interview Series Book One (15 page)

     Mother was right realized
Stacy.  Big breasts are a magnet for the wrong kind of men.  

    Stacy’s review was interrupted by a noise
coming from somewhere else in the apartment.  Stacy quickly slipped the
folder back in the drawer and closed it.  She took a quick look around to
make sure she hadn’t disturbed anything then pulled the light chord and stepped
back into the closet.  She slid the panel in place.  A click signaled
that everything was as Mike left it.

    After gently closing the closet door,
Stacy made it to the hallway where she ran into Mark.

     “I was looking for you,” said Mark
taking Stacy in his arms.

     “Pee time, the other bathroom is a
sewer,” said Stacy noting that the guest bathroom was down the same hall.

     “Power nap recharged my batteries,”
said Mark pressing his groin against Stacy.

     “I can tell,” said Stacy taking
hold of his semi-hard cock and stroking it.

     “One more for the road, just you
and me.”

     “Good, I’m still horny,” said
Stacy.  “Let’s get hot and crazy.”

***

     Afterwards, Stacy considered it
both the best and worst fuck of her life.  “Heavy,” had been Portia’s only
comment after Stacy described what happened.

     She and Mark had started slow,
seated on the couch making out.  Mark was her age and quite handsome with
a trim athletic body magnificently equipped with a penis Stacy considered a
work of art.  It was smooth and perfectly shaped with a healthy pink
mushroom head complemented by a deep flair perfect for a girl’s lips to grasp
as she worked her tongue over its spongy surface.  But after a few
exploratory touches and passionate kisses, she realized the toll the night had
taken on her body.

     Her nipples were painfully tender
to the touch.  She’d lost count of the times they’d been sucked beyond
pleasure into the realm of pain.  The tendrils of flesh had been pulled,
twisted, and crushed.  Her entire areola fell dry and inflamed.  She
had the sense her roughly used orifices were equally raw and inflamed.

     When Mark’s mouth covered the end
of her breast biting her flesh, she wanted to scream but somehow she managed to
stay in control.  It was important Mark not start wondering why she had
been in the back bedroom.

     “That hurt,” asked Mark sensing her
discomfort?

     “Sorry, they’ve seen a lot of use,”
said Stacy.

     “So it should hurt,” said Mark
leaning down to take the other nipple in his mouth.  He sucked hard then
bite into her areola.”

     “That hurt too,” said Stacy her
eyes watering with pain.

     “Hold my balls,” said Mark.

      Stacy’s hand was barely large
enough to grip his large testicles.  They felt hot.

      “Now pull and twist them.”

      “What,” asked an
uncomprehending Stacy?

      “Pull and twist them. 
Make them hurt just like your tits hurt,” said Mark

      “Like that?” asked
Stacy?  Mark exhaled to control the pain.  She squeezed his gonads as
she turned her wrist, pulling his scrotum toward her.

      “Yes, like that.  They
hurt like hell; so does my asshole.  They’ve also seen a lot of action
today.  I did a job for the Posse earlier,” said Mark.

      “What kind of a job,” asked
Stacy relaxing her grip slightly?

      “Can you keep your mouth
shut?  I could get in trouble with Mike and the others if they found out I
told you.”

      “I won’t say a word.  I
promise,” said Stacy tightening her grip.  She found herself enjoying the
pained expression on his handsome face.

      “I arranged a down low party
for some of the city hall crowd,” said Mark reaching down to capture her clit
between two fingers.  He pinched the tip and pulled.  Instantly, she
realized Zack’s clit snaps had left lasting effects.  Her button was
swollen and inflamed. Its angry head was poking out between her labia. 
The pressure of Mark’s fingers was extremely painful.

      “Down low party, what’s
that,” asked Stacy taking one testicle in her hand and squeezing.  For
some unexplained reason she was getting the sense they were enjoying causing
each other pain.

      “It’s when a bunch of married
guys get together for sex.”

      “With hookers?”

      “No, it was guys only,” said
Mark.  “Men on the down low are married guys who are cheating on their
wives having sex with other men.”

     “Is that a common thing,” asked
Stacy totally amazed at what Mark was telling her.

     “More common than you would think,”
said Mark continuing to torment Stacy’s breasts and clit.

     “If they have wives, why don’t they
stay home and screw them?”

     “Shit, I don’t know.  All I do
know is that a half dozen of Cambridge’s city government like to get together
every month for man to man sex,” said Mark.  “I got invited a few months
back.”

     “How did you manage that?”

     “I hung out in the right chat room
until I made contact with one of the group.  I did a one on one with him a
couple of times.  I let him suggest I get together some young guys for a
party.”

      “How did you know it was
him?”

      “That’s a secret,” said Mark
capturing Stacy’s nipple in his teeth and pulling
it       

      “So were you a pitcher or a
catcher,” asked Stacy realizing what Mark meant.  Mike had told Mark what
to do.  “No, don’t answer.  I can tell.”  Her fingers moved past
his balls to his anus.  She slipped her forefinger in his butthole and
pulled it hard to one side.  It felt dry and extremely warm.  
Mark moaned in pain when she scraped her nail across the wrinkled tissue.

      “Ouch, some of both but
mainly I was catching.  My butt hole has been drilled hard by fat pricks
with big dicks,” said Mark squirming in response to Stacy’s finger.  “It
was a busy afternoon.  They were all hopped up on Viagra.”

      “Where did this take place?”

      “Here,” said Mark closing his
eyes giving Stacy the impression he was feasting on the pain she was causing
him.

      “So your cock and balls are sore
from overuse?” asked Stacy as she pressed the pad of her finger against the
center of his sphincter.

      “As well as my nipples and
asshole,” said Mark.  “Even my mouth and tongue are sore.”

      “From sucking dick?”

      “Yes, I’m a cocksucker, a low
down pig cocksucker,” said Mark before leaning forward to put his lips against
hers.  He put his hand on the back of Stacy’s head forcing her lips
against his.  When he pulled away, she tasted blood.

      “My mouth’s raw too,” said
Stacy licking her lips.

      “From sucking dick?”

      “Yes, and licking pussy and
eating asshole’s assholes,” said Stacy.

      “Was Mike at your down low
party, asked Stacy?

      “Of course not, none of the
Posse was there,” said Mark.  “I took care of everything.”

      “Just you and city hall?”

      “I had some friends there to
help out, a couple of twinks I know,” said Mark.

      “You’ve lost me again. 
Twink is also missing from my vocabulary.”

      “Slender young boys who
appeal to older men, it’s the male version of a blonde bimbo.  It’s a gay
term.”

      “Old men and young boys, I
wish I’d been there to watch,” said Stacy as she leaned down to take Mark’s
nipple in her mouth.  She sucked hard as he hissed in pain.

      “It’s all on DVD but I don’t
have a copy,” said Mark slipping a finger in Stacy’s vagina.  “You’re
dry.”

      “I’m dehydrated.  My
glands have been pumping for hours.  The well’s empty,” said Stacy once
again moving her hand from Mark’s scrotum to his rectum.   Mark
squirmed when she pushed her finger against his sphincter.  “Do you like
to perform for the camera?”

      “It wasn’t like when we
filmed you.  The cameras were hidden.  It was controlled remotely,”
said Mark pushing his fingers deeper into Stacy scraping the dry walls of her
vagina.

      “Oh fuck that hurts,” said
Stacy.

      “Want me to stop,” asked
Mark?

      “Yes, no, its weird but I’m
getting off on the pain,” said Stacy.

      “What do you like best, girls
or boys,” asked Mark?

      “Girls are nicer, more
sensitive, and more concerned with their partner’s pleasure,” said Stacy
forcing her sore hole to contract around Mark’s fingers increasing her pain.

      “But,” asked Mark?

      “The guys I’ve fucked are
brutal, uncaring, and could give a shit less whether I get off.  But for
reasons that should put me in a psyche ward I like it that way,” said Stacy.

     “So, decision time,” asked Mark?

     “I need both,” said Stacy working
her finger deeper into Mark’s sphincter.  “Do you like being fucked in the
ass by older men?”

     “Yes, do you,” asked Mark?

     “You know I do.  How about the
Twinks?  Did they have a good time?”

     “They were getting paid, but the
money wasn’t that great.  Twinks like the attention of older men. 
That’s all part of being a twink,” said Mark.

     “There a bottle of lube in the
bedroom.  Want me to get it,” asked Stacy?

     “If I say no, do you want me to
stop,” asked Mark?

     “Not really, I just don’t
understand exactly what we’re doing here,” said Stacy.

     “We’ve both done questionable things
today.”

     “Such as,” asked Stacy?

     “For one, you whipped the shit out
of Adriana.  You practically peeled the skin off her butt.”

     “I was trying to help her out. They
might have killed her if she hadn’t gone along.”

     “Liar, I could tell from your
expression you were enjoying yourself.  Each time that cane landed on her
ass you loved it.”

     “Maybe,” said Stacy thoughtfully.

     “So we both deserve to suffer,”
said Mark.

     “Punishment for bad behavior,” said
Stacy.  “You’re right we deserve to be punished, especially sexually.”

     “Get on top,” said Mark lying down
on the couch.

     “God I’m dry,” said Stacy as she
straddled him attempting to force his cock in her vagina.

     “I don’t give a shit.  Make it
go in,” said Mark reaching up to grab and twist Stacy’s nipples.

     Mark hissed in pain as his raw cock
scraped along the walls of Stacy’s opening.

     Somehow the pain in her nipples and
sex was something more than just pain.  Instinctively she reached behind
her to grab Mark’s scrotum.

     “Does that hurt,” asked Stacy
pulling hard on his ball sack as she squeezed his testicles?

     “Fuck yes, don’t stop,” gasped Mark
starting to thrust into Stacy.

     “Bite my nipples,” said Stacy
leaning forward to offer her breasts to Mark.  His teeth sunk into her
soft flesh drawing blood.  Stacy’s fingers crushed his nipples causing him
to whimper in pain.  Each thrust of his cock was like a hot knife ripping
into her body.

    Mark delivered a hard slap to the side of
Stacy’s breast then repeated the act with the other.  Stacy grabbed Mark’s
nipple and attempted to lift him up by it.  He wailed in pain.

     They hurt each other as they
fucked.  There abused flesh magnified the pain.  At some point, Mark
rolled on top of her.  He furiously pounded into her sore pussy grinding
his pubic bone against her protesting clitoris.  Her nails raked his back
drawing blood.

     Finally, covered in sweat and
almost numb with pain they climaxed.  When Stacy looked at her hands,
Mark’s blood formed red half moons under her nails.  His blood streaked
cock rested on her thigh.

     “You two are fucking crazy,” said
Lou startling them.  He was standing in the doorway his arm around a
sleepy looking Adriana.     

     “It was a fucking arsenal,” said
Stacy as she and Portia walked into the school library discussing the poker
party.  It was early evening Saturday and the two hadn’t had an
opportunity to talk until then.  Stacy had slept till noon then spent her
afternoon at the skeet range while Portia worked ten minimum wage hours playing
for a dance rehearsal. 

     “Any hand grenades, RPGs, mortars,”
asked Portia?

     “No, don’t be silly. 
Semi-automatic pistols for the most part.  But there were several assault
rifles and automatic shotguns and a box of stun grenades like swat teams use,”
said Stacy as they reached the area in the back of the building. 
Fortunately it was almost empty.  There were several rows of tables
equipped with computer workstations intended for research.  The girls took
a seat as far away as possible from the other students.

     “Did you recognize any of the
makes,” asked Portia?

     “Of course, my dad is a gun
collector and for that matter I own several semi-autos of the same make,” said
Stacy.

     “Oh yeah, the skeet thing,” said
Portia.  “I keep forgetting you are a gun nut. There aren’t a lot of those
at Harvard.  Name a brand.  I want to look it up.”

     “Glock, that’s what most policeman
carry,” said Stacy spelling the name as Portia launched a WEB search engine and
keyboarded the manufacturer’s name.

     “German made, expensive, I had no
idea a pistol cost that much,” said Portia looking at her search results.

     “They were mostly expensive German
or Swiss models, top of the line, Glock, H&K, Walther.  There was a
Sig Sauer nine millimeter identical to one my Dad gave me for my sixteenth
birthday,” said Stacy.  “There were also several cases of
ammunition.  And there was a box of Saturday night specials sitting on the
floor.”

     “Saturday night specials,”
questioned Portia?

     “Inexpensive handguns sold in the
inner city and used to hold up convenience stores,” said Stacy.  “There
was even an MP5-N assault rifle.  That’s what Navy Seals use.”

     “Why would Mike Cabreeze need an
arsenal?”

     “Paranoia, preparing for Armageddon
or he’s like my dad, a collector.  Policemen are often gun hobbyists,”
said Stacy.

     “Value?  What was it all
worth?”

     “Thirty to fifty thousand being
conservative, maybe more,” said Stacy after thinking for a minute.

     “I suppose you weren’t able to look
in the safe,” said Portia.

     “I had neither time nor
combination.”

     “People have a tendency to forget
combinations especially if they don’t use them that often.  It may be
nearby written inconspicuously or an anniversary date,” said Portia. 
“What else?”

     “I’ll remember that if I get
another chance to look.  There was a file cabinet containing files with
people’s names on the tabs including a fat one labeled with my name.  It
wasn’t alphabetized.  I was right in front.”

     “Did you recognize any of the other
names?”

     “A couple sounded familiar but not
really.  There were photos, video cassettes, and even DVDs.  I was
too busy looking at my own to take a good look at anyone else’s.  The
bastard had a copy of my high school transcript, my college grades, and the
letters of recommendation my teachers wrote to get me admitted to
Harvard.  And pictures, lots of pictures, even my parent’s yearbook
pictures the year they graduated med school.”

     “Pictures of you,” asked Portia?

     “Yes, walking to class, at the
skeet range, taken with a telephoto lens for the most part.  There was
even one of me taking a douche in the Ladies Locker Room at Universal
Fitness.  How he got that I can’t even hazard a guess,” said Stacy.

     “Probably bribed someone.  Was
it covered with pecker tracks,” asked Portia?

     “Huh?”

     “Had he used it to jerk off? 
Were there spots of dried semen on the picture?”

     “Frankly I didn’t notice. The light
wasn’t that good,” said Stacy laughing at the image of Mike Cabreeze jerking
off on her picture.

     “Blasting your load all over a
girl’s picture is considered the in thing among trendy perverts.  I wonder
what’s in the safe.”

     “Money for sure, he gave Zack
seventy five hundred dollars.  They didn’t act like it was a big deal
either.”

     “Probably keeps a few thousand
handy for emergencies.  The real money is either in an off shore bank in the
Cayman Islands or a safe deposit box.  Next time you in their inner
sanctum, write down the manufacturer and model number of the safe.”

     “Why? Are we going to rob them?”

     “No, but there could be something
useful inside although I cannot imagine what.  My high school had several
students who could not write a simple sentence or multiply single digit numbers
but who could open a safe that would defeat Harry Houdini.  What was the
name of the cocaine supplier?”

     “Cardozo Brothers, at least I think
that was what Mike said,” said Stacy.

     Portia turned to the screen and
keyboarded the search criteria.  Seconds later the screen reported zero
results. Portia tried several different combinations of criteria but each came
up empty.

     “Nada, if they are Columbian drug
lords, they need to hire a PR firm.  The Internet has never heard of
them,” said Portia when the search engine failed to find a reference. 
“Any other names?”

     “Leslie Cabot, she will distribute
the Ecstasy tablets the Israeli flight attendant delivers.”

     Stacy watched as the screen filled
with a list of WEB pages referencing Leslie Cabot.

     “Leslie Cabot, party person, she’s
rich. I’m surprised you don’t know her,” said Portia peering at the results of
her WEB search.

     “It may surprise you to learn we
rich don’t all congregate together like penguins on the same ice foe. 
God, does the woman do anything beside pose for photographers?” said Stacy
looking at the computer screen as Portia clicked through photo after photo of
Leslie Cabot from the Society Section of the Boston Globe.  There were
multiple photographs of her with the movers and shakers of Boston society.

     “Goes to the right parties, fucks
the right people, what’s that old saying?  The Cabots speak only to the
Lowells and the Lowells only to God,” said Portia.

     “The Cabots must have gone down
market.  I’d say Leslie Cabot speaks to pretty much everyone,” said
Stacy.  “Of course many of those are charity affairs.”

     “Ever been to one?”

     “Once or twice with my mother when
dad couldn’t make it, boring, very boring.”

     “I’ll check the blogs for Leslie
Cabot, socialite,” said Portia.

     “Think she’s an apt subject for
bloggers,” asked Stacy?

     “Anything and anybody is subject to
the bloggers. Bingo!”

     “What?”

     “Leslie Cabot of Beverly Farms,
Massachusetts has her own WEB page and blog,” said Portia.

     “Weird.”

     “Not really, there are an estimated
eight million bloggers in the US and sixty million worldwide. You should start
one.  I could design and program www.staciagtodd.com.”

     “I could list and rate all the
people I’ve screwed since I met Mike.  But thank you, no.  What’s on
Leslie’s blog?”

     “Parties, restaurant openings, club
dates, rants and raves, the girl gets around,” said Portia looking at a picture
of Leslie dancing at the opening of a new club.  There was another of her
standing on a bandstand singing with a band.

     “She’s pretty and she can sing,”
said Stacy.  “She doesn’t look much older than us. I’d say late twenties,
early thirties.”

     “You’re much prettier,” said
Portia.

     “Thank you, I was not looking for
complements but I thank you anyway,” said Stacy.

     “You also have a better figure,”
said Portia.

     “Thank you again, now stop,” said
Stacy hugging Portia.  “I feel like celebrating my surviving the poker
party without getting whipped, slapped, or having pliers attached to my
nipples.  I give you credit for that.  Let’s go get a beer.  I’m
buying.”

     “Before we go, I want to show you
something,” said Portia accessing another WEB site.

     “Lt. Michael Cabreeze receives
award for outstanding service,” read Stacy aloud once the screen filled.

    It was the WEB site for the Cambridge
Police Department.  There was a picture of Mike smiling at the camera as
he received a plaque from the Mayor of Cambridge.

***

     “Hi Portia,” said Monk greeting
Stacy and Portia as they walked by.  He and Les were seated outside a
coffee shop in Harvard Square.  Les was strumming a guitar while Monk was
composing.

     “Hello Monk, hi Les,” said Stacy
making an extra effort to be friendly to Portia’s friends something she’d
neglected in the past.  The two girls had drunk four beers at the Harvard
Brew Shop and were walking back through the square to their dorm room. 
They were reasonably drunk.  It was a warm late spring night and even
though it was after ten o’clock the square was still crowded.

     “Sit down a minute.  Tell me
what you think,” said Monk handing the sheets of music to Portia.

     “Where you girls been,” asked Les
speaking to Stacy?

     “Getting wasted,” said Stacy. 

     “You ever figure out what happened
to you that night you passed out,” asked Les?

     “It was like you thought.  I
was at a house party over by MIT.  Somebody slipped me some drugs,
probably Ecstasy.  I passed out cold.  My fellow students took
advantage of my comatose state.  Don’t remember much,” said Stacy.

     “And then it was all aboard Stacy,”
said Monk.  “What was the point of the writing on your ass?”

     “Probably just somebody goofing on
me,” said Stacy.

     “You hadn’t been fucking some
bitch’s man or woman,” asked Les?

     “No, I have been chaste since I got
to Harvard,” said Stacy.

     “The motive was sex not revenge,”
said Portia studying the music sheets.  “This is pretty good.  But
you still need to work on it.”

     “You girls want to smoke,” asked
Monk?  “We got some BC Bud, hydroponically grown in Vancouver with an out
of sight THC content.”

     “I’m up for a smoke if Stacy is,”
said Portia.  “But before you answer, Stacy, I should tell you that Monk
and Les might try to take advantage of us.  Every time they get me high I
wind up accepting some of their body fluids.”

     “Don’t they know we’re not that
kind of girls,” said Stacy laughing.  “We’re saving ourselves for our
future husbands.”

     “Portia usually lets us fool around
with her when we go in the alley to smoke,” said Les looking hopefully at
Stacy.

    “Portia Douglass, I am shocked. Have you
allowed these young men to enjoy your favors in return for drugs,” said Stacy.

    “Guilty, I’m a fallen woman.  I
should be punished,” said Portia.

    “Before I decide your punishment, I need
to see first hand what disgusting sexual acts were committed on your person,”
said Stacy.

     Moments later, the four were
sitting on the curb in a dark alley near Harvard Square passing around a joint.

     “Are these real,” asked Les
slipping his hand inside Stacy’s bra?

     “Portia, do I have your permission
to kill Les,” asked Stacy after taking a deep puff, holding it for eight
seconds and exhaling.

     “Only if you promise to do it in
some incredibly painful way where he suffers unspeakably agonies for days,”
said Portia.

     “It’s a legitimate question.
They’re bigger that average,” said Les slowly massaging Stacy’s right
breast.  He was surprised she didn’t object as he filled his hand with her
warm breast.

     “My mother’s were bigger than
average.  That’s why my father married her,” said Stacy.

     “So your Dad is a tit man,” asked
Monk.

     “Stacy’s dad is a famous thoracic
surgeon,” said Portia.  “God, this dope is incredible.  I can’t feel
my face.”

     “Tits are located on the
thorax.  Does your Dad do augmentations?’ asked Les.

     “No, he doesn’t do cosmetic
surgery.  He’s pretty much dedicated to heart bypass operations these
days,” said Stacy.  “He also does transplants.”

     “Serious stuff, my dad had a triple
bypass.  He’s quit smoking and lost thirty pounds.  So yours are
real?” said Les.

    “Here, find out for yourself,” said Stacy
unbuttoning her blouse then reaching in to remove her breast from the bra cup.

     “How,” asked Les?

     “Suck hard on my nipple. 
Augmented breasts are filled with a saline solution.  If you taste saline,
they’re fake,” said Stacy holding her breast toward Les.

     “Saline should taste salty, right,”
asked Les as he bent over and took Stacy’s nipple in his mouth.

     “Yes, moron, saline refers to salty
like in the sea.  Here, Monk, suck mine as a control,” said Portia as she
lifted her tee shirt to allow Monk to suck her braless breasts.

     “I could taste a little salt,” said
Les.

     “Me too,” said Monk after he had
sucked Portia’s nipple.

     “This experiment could be tainted
by the fact that it is a warm night and we have been perspiring.  Sweat
has a salt component,” said Stacy.

     “We need more data.  Monk,
suck Stacy’s other nipple and Les you do this one,” said Portia holding up her
unsucked breast.

     “They’re both equally salty,”
declared Les after spending a few seconds on Portia’s nipple.

     “You caught me.  I was a
thirty triple A before I went to Mexico and became a thirty four B light,” said
Portia.