Chapter 1
Foster looked up from his
newspaper.
"You're eighteen now,"
he said to Denise. "Old enough to earn your keep. There's a job advertised
here which will suit you.
"'MARVIN'S MAGICAL MOMENTS',
it says. 'MAKE MONEY FROM MAKE-BELIEVE'. Interviews are being held today and
you'd better go. Good pay, excellent conditions. You've got half an hour to get
ready. And don't come back without it, or it'll mean the strap again if you
do."
"We've kept you long
enough," Mrs. Foster added, "and Father has been good to you all
these years. I'd advise you to do as he says. You know how angry he gets when
you disobey. Unless, of course, you want me to give you the cane first."
The woman's thin lips broke into
a smile as she spoke. Her flat chest heaved as she picked up the cane that
Denise has felt so often across her globes in the past.
"Shall we have a little
warm-up practice?" Mrs Foster whispered, "something to remind you how
much we love you and how kind we are to you?"
Denise's lips quivered as she
listened to her foster parents, but she knew better than to argue.
"Yes, Mother," she
said, terrified at the turn the conversation was taking. "You're both very
kind to me. And I know you love me - and I love you. Both."
"And you know you get the
strap because we look after your interests, don't you?" said Foster.
"Oh, yes, Father. I do know
that."
"So that's why you'll get
the strap if you come back without the job."
"Yes, Father."
"Do you think she ought to
get a taste of it before she goes, Father?" Mrs Foster suggested
hopefully.
Seeing Denise's frightened look,
Foster laughed. "Not enough time left for that," he grinned.
"But if she doesn't get the job, I'll put her over the kitchen table with
her knickers down. Well, go and get ready," he added.
"And put your yellow blouse
on," Mrs Foster said. "The one that shows your figure ... "
"Your tits, she means,"
Foster broke in. "You've got good tits. Show 'em off. That's what tits are
for. I remember when I first met your Mother, it was her tits that interested
me."
Mrs Foster looked confused.
"Abel!" she said
gently.
"Well, it's true, Bess.
Always said you had the best pair o' tits in the town, didn't I? Didn't know
about falsies in those days." He laughed as he put his hand up his wife's
skirt. "Still ye've got a nice drop of crumpet, ha'n't ye, Bess?"
He ran his hand backwards and
forwards over her shaved pussy and gave a short laugh as she squirmed.
Denise was looking at them, not
sure whether she should stay or leave them alone.
"Abel!" Bess Foster
said again breathlessly, her hips moving uncontrollably as his hand ran across
her slit. "Oh, Abel!" she moaned softly.
When Denise came downstairs to
the kitchen before leaving she found her foster-parents sprawled across the
table. Foster had his trousers unbuttoned and had dragged his wife's dress up
above her waist. He was pumping into her, their grunts and sighs sounding as if
they had not been doing it for a long time. But Denise was able to hear them
through the thin wall as they did it every night.
They paid no attention to her.
Knowing it was not safe to let them see they were being observed, which would
mean another thrashing, she crept quietly out of the house.
The general office was crammed
when Denise arrived for the vacancy. Girls occupied every bit of space, nearly
all looking alike and dressed the same. Breasts were pushed forward, nipples
straining against cloth. Every one of the girls wore a very brief mini-skirt;
some not realising their plump thighs and podgy knees would be better hidden,
not exhibited. It was quite possible, she thought, that the vacancy would be
filled before she was interviewed. Somehow, she thought, she had to bypass this
crew.
"My name is Denise
Foster," she said to the bored-looking young receptionist who was
disinterestedly filing her blood-red fingernails.
"Find a seat," said the
girl without bothering to raise her eyes. "Only about fifty more before
you."
"But the newspaper advert
said..."
"Sure, they always do. Sit
down. Give your name when you're called in."
Just then a bell rang and a pert
little young girl who was sitting beside the door to the inner room sprang up.
Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkled and her skirt barely covered her pussy.
She hurried into the next room saying as she went,
"Maria... "
"Shut the door and si'
down," a deep-sounding voice cut her short. "Take everything..."
The door closed and Denise was
not able to find out what the girl had to do.
A short while later the door
opened again and the girl emerged pulling her dress straight, her face bright
crimson.
The bell rang again. The
procedure was repeated time and time again. On each occasion a young girl went
into the inner room looking full of eager hope. A minute or two later she
emerged, her face flushed, carefully avoiding the enquiring eyes of the others
in the waiting room. She would straighten her skirt and scurry out without
saying a word to anyone into the corridor.
The girl sitting next to Denise
leaned closer and whispered, "I must get this job. I haven't had any luck
so far and if I miss this one, it'll be the strap when I get home."
Denise nodded.
"Me too," she said in a
low voice.
The girl did not seem to hear
her.
"I get it regularly Friday
and Saturday nights," she went on. "He likes doing it. The slightest
excuse and he gets me across the table with my panties down."
"Doesn't your mother say
anything?" Denise asked.
"She daren't. He'd have her,
too, if she did."
Just then the bell rang.
"Good luck," Denise
whispered. But she didn't mean it. As
she sat waiting for the girl to come out, she was praying for her not to
succeed. The door opened.
One glance at the girl told
Denise she still had a chance. The girl sniffed as tears ran down her face.
"It'll be the strap again
tonight," she muttered.
At last it was the end of the
queue - Denise's turn. She licked her lips, fearing what might come. She knew
what to expect from her foster-parents if she were unsuccessful and it was
enough to make her resolve to do whatever was wanted. She opened the door ...
and was unable to restrain her gasp.
Chapter 2
An enormously fat man wearing
nothing but a pair of tight cotton briefs and short black socks was sitting
cross-legged on a pile of cushions on the floor. His erection was pointing
towards the ceiling and he was busily rubbing his flabby pink hand along its
length. As his hand moved, he was breathing heavily, his eyes being
half-closed, apparently in a trance.
To one side of him stood a well-built,
heavily muscled middle-aged woman dressed in a short leather tightly laced
corset that pinched in her waist and exposed her thighs, pushing her round
ivory coloured breasts upwards. Her peaked nipples had been rouged. Her cunny
was shaved and a few drops of come glistened on its pink lips. She wore black
leather thigh boots with curved narrow heels, laced from ankle to the top.
In her right hand was a long
flexible cane which she was tapping gently on her flank. A black half-mask
covered the top part of her face, allowing her eyes to glitter through narrow
slits. She had a cruel, moist, red-lipped mouth. Her pink tongue worked slowly
over her upper lip which was drawn back half way to expose her dead-white even
teeth.
The cane pointed towards her
cunny but she said nothing. Not knowing what she was supposed to do, but
remembering her regular Friday evening routine with her foster-mother, Denise
fell on her knees and crawled towards the woman. She poked her tongue out and
sought the woman's gash.
The fat man giggled.
"Very good, my dear,"
he said. "Shows initiative."
Denise was shocked to hear a
squeaky voice come from this mountain of a man. However, so long as she gained
his approval, things could only get better, she thought.
"It would be better, my dear,
if you removed your clothes first," the fat man went on. "I like to
see a young girl's reaction when she is in a state of pudendum agitatio
exhibitum. You do speak Latin, don't you, my dear?"
Denise shook her head. She had
not learnt Latin at school.
The fat man sighed.
"Oh, well. It can't be
helped. But it would have made such a nice change if you had been properly
educated. Still, Farley can remedy that, can't you, Farley, my love?"
The masked woman cracked the cane
down across the fat man's shoulders, making him yelp.
"Oow! You are so vicious, my
dear," he cried. "But you do know my little foibles. I can never get
an erection without your special attention. You will do that, won't you, my
love?"
For a reply, the woman brought
the cane down across his flabby back again. Denise saw a red weal run across
the place where the cane had struck and his prick quiver.
"Toss off if you must, but
shut up!" the woman ordered. "And you, girl, why have you stopped?
You were about to lick me out, weren't you? Or would you like a taste of the
crop?"
Hurriedly, Denise pushed her
tongue deep into the woman's crack. She heard a long sigh as her tongue worked
its way in and out. The woman began to shudder.
"I'm coming, my pet!"
shrieked the fat man. "Put her on. Quickly."
Before Denise could understand
what was happening, the woman had grabbed her and pushed her face down on top
of the man's organ at the moment it was starting to spurt. Instinctively,
Denise opened her mouth and the throbbing tool entered.
The flow gushed into her, filling
her mouth faster than she could swallow. She was surprised to find it tasted
sweet and salty at the same time. A taste she enjoyed having pushed into her.
"Lovely," said the fat
man, "this one is really good."
"Right," said the
woman. "Now you've got past that little test, there remains the climax. If
you succeed there, the job is yours."
With that, she lifted Denise off
the tool which was now dribbling to a halt and turned her so that her bum was
facing the panting man. She felt her anus being greased and almost at once, a
rigid rod entered her passage. Then she was bent over double, leaving her in no
doubt that she was about to be rogered. She did not know what the instrument
that was going to be used would be.
A series of high-pitched giggles
informed her that it was the fat man who was working the rod in and out.
Suddenly the rogering stopped.
"She'll do," said the
woman. "Now we can introduce ourselves."
The rod was withdrawn from Denise
and she had to stand with her hands covering her quim in front of the couple
who had examined her.