Several days had passed since the incident with Ted Grace. Pat had just arrived for work at the Tango Club when Brock called her into his office. She went warily, suspecting he had some humiliation in store for her.
When Pat stood before his desk in her outrageously tiny black costume, Brock paused a moment just to feast his eyes.
"Yes, Brock?" Pat said nervously. "What do you want? I really should get to work."
"You won't have to work the bar tonight," Brock said, "at least not till much later. I want you to come with me and meet some of my friends."
"Oh, no," Pat said, backing away, "not that again. I hated it last time, Brock, you must have known that."
Brock scowled at her. "Baby, you don't learn very fast," he said. "You know the rules – do what the boss says or lose your job."
His threat had always worked before, but this time Pat stood firm. She wasn't about to degrade herself again for a man who obviously didn't care about her. Even Trish's security wasn't worth that price. Pat felt sure she could get a job somewhere else now that she'd had some experience waiting tables.
"I'm sorry, Brock," she said gravely, "but the answer is no. I won't be your whore. And if that means I lose this job, so be it."
Brock thought fast. He had a private party planned for his most important business associates, men who could make or break his career, and he'd promised them a special treat – making love to a mother and daughter. He had to have Pat and Trish available and cooperative tonight. He decided to play on Pat's emotions. He knew perfectly well that she was infatuated with him and hoping to marry him.
He got up and walked to her and put his arms around her. "Honey," he said tenderly, "I know I haven't treated you right, but it won't be long now before I can give you everything you want. I just have to make a go of this business, impress a few more people, and I'll be set for life. Think about it, Pat – if you were my wife, you wouldn't have to work, and your daughter would have everything she needs."
Pat stared at him open-mouthed. She'd just heard words she'd thought she'd never hear – Brock Spalding proposing marriage! Even though she no longer loved or trusted him, marriage would solve all her financial problems and provide a secure future for Trish. It was a chance she simply couldn't pass up. One more night of humiliation wasn't too much to pay for a lifetime of wealth.
"All right, Brock," she said. "Just what do you want me to do?"
"Good girl," Brock said with a grin. "I just want you to entertain a few of my friends, just like you did with Ted. These guys are prepared to pour plenty of money into the club, and I want to make sure they have a good time."
Pat shuddered. Though he didn't come right out and say it, he wanted her to prostitute herself again – and with more than one man. Her conscience rebelled, but she told herself that she had to do it for Trish. Just one more ordeal and she could be Mrs. Brock Spalding. Yes, she thought, I'll do it for my daughter.
Brock could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. He knew he had her. Naturally he hadn't meant a word of his phony marriage proposal, but Pat didn't have to know that. He just needed her for tonight, and after that he didn't give a damn what happened to her. She would have served her purpose.
"Just get your coat and wait for me in the car," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "I sure appreciate this, honey, and I promise you it'll be the last time I'll ask you to do it."
Those wards reassured Pat completely. She felt she could endure ANYTHING for one night, as long as it meant guaranteeing her future and Trish's. She went to wait for Brock in the car, and soon they were on their way. Brock drove to the same hotel where Ted had stayed and took her up to the same lavish suite.
"I rented the suite for the evening," he told her, "to impress my friends. It's costing me a bundle, but it'll be worth it if they decide to invest in the club. And I'm sure they will, baby, if you show them all a good time."
"Yes, Brock," Pat said dully, "whatever you want."
They entered the suite, and Pat saw six men sitting around sipping drinks. They were middle-aged and prosperous-looking, some of them attractive and some not. When Pat entered they all stared hungrily at her. Brock whisked off her coat and left her in just her enticing skin-tight costume.
There were whistles and exclamations of delight. One of the men said, "Jesus, Brock, she's gorgeous. Where'd you find her?"
"This is Pat Adams," Brock said, "and she's a waitress at my club. AD my girls are beautiful, and that's why the club's going to be a big success – IF I get enough backers."
The other man laughed and said, "I got the point, Brock. But let's see how this lady performs. When does the party start?"
"Right now," Brock said with a grin. "Pat, honey, I want you to go into that bedroom and take off your clothes. My friends will be along shortly."
Pat blushed right down to her toes. She didn't like the situation at all, but she was determined to go through with it. Obediently she marched to the room Brock had indicated and closed the door behind her.
When she was gone, Brock grinned wickedly and said to his friends, "Okay, that's the mother. You guys have some fun with her, and I'll go get the daughter."
"Hey, Brock," one of the men said, "you wouldn't be pulling our legs, would you? I mean are they really mother and daughter?"
"Oh, yeah," Brock said, "that's for real. But just remember our agreement – they're not supposed to know about each other being here. Not till I give the word."
The others nodded and laughed, and Brock left the suite.
Meanwhile Pat had taken off her costume and was lying naked on the king-size bed, her heart pounding. It was clear what Brock wanted her to do – fuck every man in that room. Only the thought of marrying Brock and sharing his money kept her from running away. And only for Trish's sake would she prostitute her body in this cold-blooded and disgusting way.
Pat stared when the bedroom door suddenly opened.
"Hello there, beautiful," the man said.
He was about fifty, lean, with iron-grey hair and a leering wolf-like expression. Pat quivered with distaste as he approached the bed. He stood close by, ogling her lovely naked body as he began to remove his clothes. Pat felt not a spark of desire for him. In fact she wished she could drop right though the floor.
"My name's Frank," he said, "and I'm the lucky guy who won the toss. I get to have you first."
Pat managed a weak smile. She knew it wasn't enough just to lie there coldly and allow the men to ball her. She had to impress them and leave them with good feelings toward Brock. She smiled stiffly as Frank dropped his pants.
For a middle-aged man he wasn't in bad shape. He was trim and tan, and he'd certainly had no trouble getting a hard-on. His long slim cock was perhaps seven inches, and it snuggled against his belly in a fierce erection. But the sight didn't turn Pat on in the least. She just wanted to do her job, get it over with, and get out.
Frank slid onto the bed beside her and swept her into his arms, hungrily pawing her big swollen tits. It was all Pat could do not to scream and push him away. She held her stiff phony smile of invitation while Frank squeezed and molded her heavy satin skinned boobs and ran his thumbs back and forth over her rosy little nipples, making the soft buds stiffen.
"You got the most gorgeous body I ever saw," he said hoarsely. "That Brock is a lucky motherfucker."
Pat reddened. So Brock had been telling tales. It was humiliating to know that all six men in the suite were aware that she'd been balling her boss. No, she definitely didn't care for Brock any more. But she did care for his money, and that was all that kept her from wriggling out of Frank's unwelcome embrace, all that kept her from running out of the room.
"Touch my cock," he panted, "play with it."
Pat would loaner have touched a poisonous snake, but she did as he asked, knowing it was part of her job that night. She reached down and touched the silky throbbing pole of his prick and curled her fingers around it. Slowly, teasingly, she ran her hot little fist up and down the stiff length of his dick. Frank sighed and shivered with horny excitement.
"You really like to ball, huh, baby?" he leered. Pat managed to stammer, "Oh, yes, of course."
"Then let's get to it," Frank said.
His achingly stiff cock was already weeping big hot gobs of juice into her hand. He was more than ready. Pat of course wasn't prepared to fuck him or anyone else, but she told herself it was better to do it fast, to take care of all of them as fast as possible. She smiled and opened her legs.
"Oh, baby," Frank moaned, "I can hardly wait."
He slipped onto her, his lean body weighing her down, and then Pat felt the hot hard tip of his cock nudging the dry little mouth of her cunt. She relaxed as much as she could – otherwise her unprepared twat would have been too tight to penetrate. Panting, Frank worked his rock-hard meat into her. Fortunately his own bubbling cock-juice provided all the lubrication he needed.
"Awwwww, Christ," he moaned.
As Pat felt his slim but rigid prick sliding all the way to her womb, she experienced no pain – and no arousal. She felt nothing at all. But to give the appearance of enjoyment she threw her long legs up around his waist and locked them there, opening her pussy to him. That made Frank very excited. He snorted with lust and began to ball her in quick hard jabs.
"Yeah, yeah," he panted. "Jesus, baby, you are tight."
Numbly Pat clung to him, her arms and legs wrapped around his humping body. She knew she'd be better off if she could just forget what she was doing, if she could imagine being with a man she liked. She worked on that fantasy, and soon her stuffed little box began to heat and moisten. Soon Frank's frantically jerking prick began to feel rather nice.
But she was nowhere near hot arousal when Frank suddenly yelped and began to shoot his load into her. Pat submissively took the blast of jism which filled and overflowed her tight little box. Then Frank rolled off her with a look of smug satisfaction.
"Pretty good fucking, huh, baby?" he said.
"Oh, yes, Frank, it was fantastic," Pat sighed.
Fortunately he didn't detect the sarcasm in her voice. He left the room, giving Pat a moment to collect herself. She figured she wouldn't have much time, so she just combed her long black hair and waited for the next man. In less than a minute he arrived.
This time the guy was short, plump and balding. He was probably in his late forties, and his clothes must have cost more money than Pat made in a week. He leered at her just as Frank had done as he walked over beside the bed and started to undress. Again Pat faked an inviting smile.
"Hey, honey, if you thought Frank was hot stuff, wait'll you get it on with me," the plump man said. "By the way, you can call me Dave."
Pat would have liked to call him a lot of other things, but she just smiled. Dave stripped, revealing a pink pudgy hairless body. He wasn't blessed in the cock department, either. His prick was stiff, but it was only about three inches long and kind of skinny. His rosy balls wagged as he crawled onto the bed.
He saw where Pat's glance was directed, and he chuckled and said, "It's not the biggest dong in the world, baby, but I know how to use it."
"I'm sure you do, Dave," Pat sighed.
He didn't bother with preliminaries. He rolled Pat over onto her belly and arranged her pert little ass to stick high in the air. Pat was just as glad that she wouldn't have to look at him while they fucked. She obediently held her lewd posture while Dave, wheezing and panting, knelt behind her.
"You just get ready for the fuck of your life, honey," he chuckled.
Pat couldn't imagine where he got his high opinion of himself as a lover. He poked his stiff little cock into her moist tight cunt, and she could hardly feel a thing. He gave a shrill excited cry and began to ball her fast and rough, but still Pat got very little friction from his slim short dick.
"Oooooo," she squealed, faking her passion.
"I told you it'd be good." Dave wheezed.
Pat figured that many women must have praised his love-making because they wanted his money. That was the only possible explanation for his smugness. Dutifully she squealed, pawed the bed, and bucked her hips, pretending to be carried away with pleasure. Soon Dave was dripping sweat all over her back as he humped her faster and faster.
"Oh, baby, ohhhhh," he moaned.
With a sigh of relief Pat took the hot squirt of his come. Dave took a moment to catch his breath, then dressed and trotted off, no doubt to tell his buddies how he'd thrilled her. This time Pat didn't bother to comb her tousled hair. She just lay on the bed and waited for the next man.
Her third partner was a broad-shouldered white-haired guy in his late fifties, the most attractive so far. He behaved the same as the others, though, standing by the bed and hungrily eyeing her lovely naked body as he took off his clothes. He told her his name was Carl, but like the others he didn't give his last name. No doubt all the men in the suite were respectable mated businessmen.
Carl at least was better hung than Dave. He had a thick eight-inch dick that sprang stiffly from a nest of silver hairs. His swollen nut sacs looked as big as golf balls. Pat felt a faint spark of interest as the handsome silver-haired man got onto the bed beside her – but his next words dampened her enthusiasm.
"Hey, sweetheart," he said with a leer, "you like to eat cock?"
Pat felt a gagging sensation, but she quickly replied in a cooing voice, "Oh, yes, Carl, I like that more than anything."
As she lowered her face into his lap, she thought, whore. You're nothing but a whore…
At that very moment Brock was ushering Trish into the suite.
He'd had a little trouble persuading her to come along with him. Trish wasn't about to be fooled again. If Brock was going to use her body, she'd decided, he'd have to pay a high price. So when he'd called her into his office and asked her to come entertain some friends, Trish had laid out her demands.
"Brock," Trish said firmly, "you can't use me like this. Your crummy job isn't worth it. I won't come with you unless you really make it worth my while."
Brock grinned at her. He hadn't realized the little blonde teenager had so much gumption. But of course he was ready for her. He'd use the same trick he used on her mother. He got up from his desk and walked over to Trish and embraced her.
"Honey, I have to apologize," he said. "I know I haven't treated you right. But listen to this, Trish. If you help me out tonight, you'll never have to bus dishes again. You'll be set for life."
And so on. It was the same line he'd given Pat, a vague promise of marriage if Trish would just prostitute herself for him one more time. Determined as she was not to be tricked again, Trish was nevertheless deceived. She bought the line, and she decided to go through with the ordeal in order to get Brock's wealth for herself and her mother. Just the thought of Pat never having to work again was enough to convince Trish that the ordeal was worth it.
So ten minutes later Trish was being shown off to Brock's friends. Carl was temporarily absent in the bedroom, but the other five ogled the teenager's curvy little body as she stood before them in her skimpy pink costume. Like her mother, Trish forced a faked little smile, determined to do the job and do it well.
"You go on in that bedroom, honey," Brock said, "and my friends will be along pretty soon."
Trish obeyed, not knowing that the bedroom was right next door to where her mother was sucking off Carl. She thought she was the only girl present at the "party". The men knew differently, of course, and they grinned wickedly as Trish left the room. Now the stage was set for all of them to ball the mother, then the daughter. Everyone agreed that Brock gave a helluva party.
Trish took off her costume and lay naked on the king-size bed. Unlike her mother, she wasn't afraid – she was just disgusted. But at least this was the last time Brock would exploit her body. He was going to pay the highest price of all – marriage. That at least gave Trish some grim satisfaction. It would be quite a victory to go from bus girl to Mrs. Brock Spalding.
The bedroom door opened, and a tall lean grey-haired man came into the room. "Hello, beautiful," he said. "My name's Frank."
It would have turned Trish's stomach to know that this man had just finished fucking her mother, to know that each man in the suite intended to make love to Pat and then to Trish. But Trish was unaware of the ugly facts, and she just watched with cool interest as Frank took off his clothes.
She was young and inexperienced, and she still had quite a strong curiosity about male bodies. She wasn't ashamed to stare right at Frank's crotch as he lowered his pants and shorts. She noticed that his stiff cock was about as long as Brock's but thinner. She felt her little cunt starting to heat and moisten as Frank crawled onto the bed. After all, she might as well enjoy herself as much as she could.
"Play with my cock, honey," Frank said eagerly. "Just fool around with it a little."
Trish didn't mind. She wanted to know all about cocks, and she was a little excited as she reached out and curled her fingers around Frank's long but slender dick. She liked the hot silky texture of his cock-skin, enjoying running her little hand up and down the rigid pole of his prick. Frank sighed blissfully as he watched her exploring his hard-on.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that she did it better than her mother – but Brock had made everyone promise not to reveal the women's presence to each other. So Frank just lay back on the pillows and watched the pretty little blonde teenager playing with his meat. She actually seemed to get off on it, running her fist eagerly up and down the rock-hard throbbing stalk.
"Touch my balls, too, honey," Frank sighed.
Trish wasn't at all offended. Still pumping his stiff long prick with one hand, she used the other hand to cup and gently squeeze his big hot swollen nut sacs. She found them just as warm and silky as his cock. She gave his sensitive balls a steady massage while she frigged his pulsing dick.
"Yeah, yeah, that's real nice, baby," Frank sighed.
Trish didn't feel particularly turned on to the guy, but she did get off on this chance to explore a cock and balls as much as she wanted. She paid close attention to the swollen purple cock-head, rimming it with her finger till the dark slit mouth began to ooze little droplets of juice.
On impulse she bent down, stuck out her tiny pink tongue, and lapped up some of the oozing cream, wondering how it tasted compared to Brock's cock-juice. The taste wasn't much different, the same pleasant salty stuff. She used her slick hot tongue tip to rim his rubbery purple cock-head and dig into the oozing little mouth for more tasty juice.
"Jesus Christ," Frank muttered.
He'd had young girls before – all the young girls his money could buy – but never had he seen one so spontaneously eager. Trish just followed her own instincts and came off as good as any experienced hooker. Frank trembled with horniness as the pretty little girl swished her gleaming tongue around and around the supersensitive head of his cock.
"That's real nice, honey," he moaned, "real nice. But I'm not gonna hold out if you do that. Let's ball now. You sit on top of me."
Trish wasn't just dying to ball him, but she was always interested in experimenting with a new position. Obediently she straddled Frank's belly and brought her moist little twat-mouth down to touch the creaming head of his prick. Frank, too eager to be gentle, seized her slim waist and forced her down on his dick. The long hard cock sliced deep into her exquisitely tight cunt.
"Eeeeee," Trish squealed.
"Oh, my God," Frank gasped, "you are tight."
He'd thought her mother's box was snug, but it was nothing compared to this delicious near-virgin hole. Groaning blissfully, Frank forced his rigid dick clear to her womb. With his swollen meat gripped by hot juicy flesh, he almost came right away. But he wanted to enjoy her tiny teenage twat as long as possible, so he gritted his teeth and balled her slowly.
Trish hadn't liked the way he pushed roughly into her, causing her a moment's sharp pain, but when he began balling her slowly and gently, she started to get off on it. Unlike Pat, she didn't think about moral principles or reputation or modesty. She was too young and inexperienced to care about such things. She just sighed and let Frank work his rock-hard meat steadily up and down her snug little cunt.
"How's that feel to you, honey?" Frank panted.
"Pretty nice," Trish admitted.
Frank laughed. "Just pretty nice? Well, I'll try to do better than that."
He went on reaming and stuffing her super-tight box with his achingly swollen dick, and he reached out and seized her tiny red clit between his thumb and forefinger. The little scarlet lump was almost hidden in her golden muff, but he managed to get a grip on it and to knead it steadily. Trish gasped with sudden pleasure, and he felt her scalding cunt-cream gushing all around his meat.
"Oooooo," Trish squealed.
"Better?" Frank said.
"Ummmmm, yes," the girl sighed, "I really dig that."
Frank grinned and increased the speed and pressure of his fucking. At the same time he kneaded her moist little joy button faster and faster. Trish's response was natural and quick. She squealed with pleasure and began creaming heavily around his jerking cock.
"Oh, wow, that's so good," she sighed. "Bring me off, okay?"
"I'll try," Frank moaned.
He was so excited, so aroused by her red-hot squeezing cunt, that he doubted he could last another second. He kneaded her slick little clit as fast as he could, but not fast enough. He felt a delicious explosion in his cock and balls, and then he was drenching her tiny box with steamy come.
"Awwwww," he wailed.
Trish looked down at him in disappointment. She'd really wanted to get off, and now she felt his cock shriveling inside her. Well, maybe she could make it with one of the other men. Coolly she sprang off Frank's sweaty body, and his limp cock slipped out of her come-filled cunt.
"Sorry about that," Frank said sheepishly.
"No biggie," Trish lied.
He quickly dressed and left, ashamed to look her in the eye. Trish didn't much care what he felt. She was there to do a job, and she'd done it as far as Frank was concerned. It was someone else's turn – and she certainly hoped the next guy would last longer.
The door opened and in walked Dave, the short plump man who was losing his hair. He was just as confident as he'd been with Pat, grinning at Trish as he stripped. Trish was hardly excited about fucking a fat bald guy, and she was even less thrilled with his tiny thin cock. But at least he had a good hard-on. Again she felt that horny melting sensation in her cunt.
"How do you want to do it, Dave?" she said boldly.
Dave gawked at her adorable curvy naked body and said, "Oh, Jesus, honey-upside down, from the ceiling, however you want it. Only let's do it NOW."
Trish giggled and got onto her hands and knees, poking her cute little butt high in the air. She was kind of fond of doing it dog-style. Dave, red-faced and wheezing with excitement, knelt behind her and quickly thrust his steel-hard little dick up her juicy cunt. He moaned with pleasure when he felt her exciting tightness.
"Oh, baby, you got a great little box," he whined.
Trish didn't answer. As far as she was concerned the time for talking was over. She just wanted to be balled and balled hard. And Dave certainly tried. He went at her like a jackhammer, pounding his small stiff prick in and out of her cunt at a furious pace. Trish moaned and creamed hotly around his jerking meat.
"Oooooo, wow,yes," she cried.
"Oh, Christ," Dave yelped.
The girl's unashamed passion was more than he could take. He came almost the moment he was in her, filling her tiny tight box with sizzling jism. It was a sudden explosion of unexpected pleasure, and he still had a look of surprise on his pudgy flushed face as his cock went limp and slipped from her tight little box.
"Gee," Dave said lamely, "I usually last longer than that."
"Don't worry about it," Trish sighed. "It was fun anyhow."
Dave blushed and hurried into his clothes. A minute after he was gone, broad-shouldered silver-haired Carl entered the room. Like her mother, Trish found him instantly attractive, and she could hardly wait to feel his mammoth eight-inch dick in her frustrated little cunt. She trembled with horny anticipation as he rolled onto the bed beside her.
"Hey, honey," he leered, "you dig sucking cock?"
Trish sighed impatiently. "Sometimes," she said, "but I'd rather ball."
Carl gawked at her. He was a rich important man, and women just didn't turn him down. He didn't expect his partner to express her wishes. And here was this saucy little girl, no more than eighteen, telling him how she wanted it. For a moment he didn't know whether to laugh or get mad.
"Well?" Trish said, tapping her, fingers. "Are we gonna get it on or not?"
Carl laughed. "Okay, smart-ass," he said, "we'll do it your way."
He rolled her onto her back, wedged open her legs with his knees, and plunged his thick hard meat deep into her wonderfully tight teenage twat. Right away he was glad he'd opted for a fuck instead of a blow-job. No woman's mouth, no matter how expert, could have equaled the heat and tightness of Trish's near-virgin box. He started to fuck her hard and fast and deep.
"Ooooo," Trish squealed, "that's more like it."
And in the living room of the suite Brock was saying to his friends, "It's just about time for the main show, gentlemen. As soon as you all have your turns, we'll bring the ladies out and let them see each other."
"Jesus, Brock," Frank said nervously, "don't you think they'll be kind of upset?"
"That's the point," Brock said with a wicked grin, "that's just the point."