It was coming; the express train load of jizz was coming. Grant let it loose and held Lois on his cock. She didn't like the taste of cum, and he knew it. That was why he made her do it. He felt his semen spatter her mouth, her tongue, saw her gut knot as she gagged. But she swallowed it. Her tongue rubbed his dork as she gulped down wave after burning wave of cream. His balls twisted, wringing themselves out in her sucking mouth. A dribble of jizz escaped her sucking lips, spilled down her chin, and dripped to the floor. He kept thrusting at her until his guts ached. Then he let go of her ears, let her lick his dick clean.
He glanced over at Clara and Wil. When Clara saw him looking at her, she squirmed around, slid down on Wil. Her mouth sought his jutting cock.
Her lips closed on his hard, hot meat. She felt the blood pulsing in his veins. She tasted his first seepings. She knew Grant was watching her go down on Wil. She gripped Wil's dick and drew his hot shaft into her mouth. Her gut knotted with revulsion as she tried to take more of his throbbing shaft into her mouth.
A clink and rattle distracted her. She looked over and saw Grant release Lois' hair from the overhead chain. Using the loop of hair from her head to her wrists, he hauled her across the floor. Her heels bumped along behind her.
Her gut wrenching with sympathy for her helpless hostess, Clara went back to Wil's cock. She began fondling the tender eggs of his balls. Wil was slouched back on a stack of pillows. His ass tightened, lifted his dick in a fucking motion. His hands came down to caress her head as she sucked him.
Clara traced the groove between cock-head and shaft and felt his cock quiver. She brushed the underside, and felt stinging fluid on her tongue. Her head was filled with the rich stink of his juice. She pressed against the underside of his cock, pinched it against the roof of her mouth, against the sharp edge of her upper teeth.
Wil groaned. His fingers curled in her hair, gathered a fist-full of her soft locks. He began guiding her head in an up and down motion. His hips thrust in counterpoint, drove his dick-head bruisingly, gaggingly, to the back of her mouth. Clara rose and tipped her head so she could get his prick down her throat. She wanted to swallow his thrusting shaft. She fingered his nuts and twisted and gulped. An inch at a time, she gained on the enormous block of meat.
Her breasts hanging, her ass high, Clara swallowed cock. She fingered Wil's balls, willed his cumming. She wanted his spurts to spray her throat, to boil in her stomach, to flood her mouth and coat her gullet.
She felt his balls knot up against his groin. The first thick mass burst over her tongue, coated her mouth with essence. She gulped, drove his cock to the back of her mouth. She fondled his pulsing, squirting nuts. She choked as a globule of jizz hit her throat. Slurping and sucking, she drew his thick cream from his guts. Deliberately, she let a thick, white drop escape her lips and spill down his cock. She wanted everyone to see what she was swallowing so eagerly, so willingly. Her head was swimming as the cock in her jaw pulsed. She didn't release his pecker until it was shrinking and drained. Then she leaned forward and rested her cheek on Wil's hard belly.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Or you'll what?" Clara asked, more than a little disgusted with Wil's toothless threats. She had been baiting him, deliberately, for over a week. Ever since she had seen Lois strung up by her hair, Clara's cunt had urged her to seek a similar humiliation. She was beginning to think she was going to have to turn to Grant for satisfaction.
"You're getting to be a real bitch, you know that?" Wil asked bitterly. "You're just begging for… far the type of thing Lois gets from Grant…"
"You haven't got the balls to do it," Clara said sourly.
"Now that's enough," Wil warned. For a moment, Clara was afraid he was going to order her to leave. That wasn't what she wanted at all. "I don't need all the fancy hardware they have. A few neckties and my belt would do the same thing."
Clara felt a surge of hope. Wil had been thinking about how to do it, at least. "So, why don't you go ahead and do it?" she asked. "Or are you too much of a eunuch?"
Wil fidgeted, trying to make a decision. Then he turned to the bureau near the bed. "Come here," he ordered. For a change, there was real forcefulness in his tone.
Clara complied. Fear tingled in her gut as excitement wet her pussy. Her tits ached in her bra. She wished she hadn't worn it.
"Turn around, and put your hands behind your back. I hope you meant what you said about these old rags you're wearing."
"Why?" Clara asked, her throat tight.
Wil took her hands. Instead of crossing them, as she had expected, he pulled them, so her arms were parallel, and each hand was by the opposite elbow. The position strained her shoulders back.
"Because after I get you tied up, I'm going to tear them off of you," Wil noted tensely, tying her wrists.
"All of them?" Clara asked softly. Her pussy was a sizzling cauldron of lust.
"All of them," he answered, giving her a rude push toward the bed. "Sit down."
Clara stumbled and sat down awkwardly. At Wil's next command she flopped to her back and lifted her feet. After he had bound her ankles with one of his neckties, he told her to stand up. To do it, she had to first roll over on her belly. Then she heaved herself upright. She hopped precariously, then turned so she could face him.
"Just remember, you asked for this," Wil warned with a hint of his old timidity.
Clara faced him as boldly as she could. The way her arms were bound made her chest stick out. Her breasts jutted forward at him.
Instead of starting on her clothes, he reached out and fondled her thrusting breasts insolently. She was totally helpless. She writhed as his fingers glided over her still-covered globes. His face gleamed with excitement as he fingered her tits. Clara's head sagged backwards as lust boiled through her. It wasn't so much from his touch, as from her total helplessness and the anticipation of what was to come. Just how was he going to get her out of the old tank top she was wearing? And what about her bra, and the tight jeans?
Wil seemed to be enjoying the chance to toy with her. He squeezed her soft breasts, watched how they took the pressure of his fingers, watched the play of expression over her face. She didn't try to conceal her growing lust. She let it twist her features as he fondled her jugs.
"Don't go away," he joked, turning his back on her. He sauntered to the bathroom. For a moment she thought he was going to strip. Then she heard him using the toilet. He was still dressed when he came back into the room. He went over to his cluttered desk.
When he turned toward her again, she cringed. He was holding a gleaming pair of scissors. Light flashed from the sharp points. She wasn't sure how he was going to use them, but hoped he would be careful.
Cold steel touched her upper tit as he slid the point of one blade in the arm hole of her top. He carefully avoided clipping her bra strap. The scissors slid over her flesh and the point emerged near her tender throat. He closed the blades.
With a soft, whirring snick he sheared through the flimsy cloth. The severed material flopped down, bared the bra cup on that side. He grinned and pricked her throat with the point of the scissors. She flinched away, and her cunt flooded with excitement.
For some reason, she had expected him to cut the other side of her top next. He didn't. She felt goose bumps ripple her flesh when the point of the scissors touched the side of her waist. With a series of soft chomps, he gnawed his way up her side. He cut upwards toward her armpit until the point of the shears jabbed her there, and the last strip of cloth was cut.