Authors: Lindsay Ross
He did succeed but no sooner was he in than she felt his thin liquid trickle into her bowels.
Chapter Four
Andy told her he had a trailer at the coast and would drive her there at the weekend. It was a
trailer parked in an isolated spot, though there was a farm quite close, a rural idyll but with access to a beach that was almost always deserted. A seaside resort a little further down the coast mopped up most of the day-trippers and those families who still wanted the traditional family holiday, in so far as it still existed.
‘If the weather’s still like this, we’ll skinny dip,’ he said.
The high pressure still held sway at the weekend and although they arrived early evening the sun was still hot. Mercifully, the trailer was tucked away in a wood and the trees provided shade.
On the way down, Chrissie had spoilt the journey for herself by allowing negative thoughts about Andy to enter her head. The negativity began with the question, ‘why would a man like Andy Scates have a trailer in such an isolated spot?’ It just didn’t seem like Andy.
She saw him as pretty sociable if not necessarily a party animal. When she saw him around the college he was usually with several colleagues or a group of students whether he was in the canteen or in the lift moving between floors in the multi-storey block. On the other hand, he was an English teacher and perhaps he went to his trailer to do some serious reading away from all distractions.
Chrissie’s mind put up another demon to trouble her.
He’d been very quick to invite her down to his trailer. How many other women had received similar invitations? Was the trailer a place to take them for sex, cheaper than a hotel or even a Bed and Breakfast? He was single, so there was nothing to stop him enjoying himself, though whether he should have sex with his students was debatable even if he was careful that they were all over eighteen, but the thought that she might be just another weekend shag certainly took the edge off it.
‘How do you spend your time when you come down on your own, Sir?’ she asked unable to keep to her resolution not to sound concerned on the subject.
‘I keep occupied.’
‘How? It sounds a quiet place.’
‘It is.’
‘So…?’
He turned to look at her. ‘I fish, for one thing.’
‘Rod and line fishing, Master?’
‘No, we take a boat out and fish for mackerel.’
‘We?’
‘I know some guys down there.’
Plausible enough and her anxieties were small clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky.
After they’d unpacked, Andy said a swim was the order of the day.
‘Just bring a towel,’ he told her.
‘Sir, I don’t like sunbathing,’ she said. ‘My skin’s too fair. I turn bright red and then peel. Will you excuse me?’
‘Bring a few towels and cover yourself if you have to, but it seems a pity. You can get a lovely tan down there because you have a natural windbreak at your back and the sea breeze to keep you relatively cool.’
‘Is it really safe from prying eyes?’
Chrissie collected her baseball cap and her sunglasses.
‘It’s usually pretty deserted but with a figure like yours you’ve no reason to be coy.’
‘Is it a nudist beach, Master?’
‘Unofficially maybe.’
As they walked along the cliff tops, Chrissie was reflecting that anyone who did see her nude would notice the bruises on her bum which could be embarrassing. She could already see little sandy coves below the steep rock from which seabirds flew off and returned describing wide arcs against the vivid blue of sky and sea. The rock looked sheer but she guessed there must be ledges for the birds to launch off from and alight again. It was a perfect day, without a breath of wind, yet she could smell the sea.
The path took them lower, winding through gorse bushes and brambles and still no sign of another human being.
It was as Andy had described it. A little stretch of clean sand between two promontories of seaweed covered rocks.
As soon as his feet touched the warm, pristine sand, Andy kicked off his sandals, peeled off his T-shirt and dropped his shorts.
Chrissie looked round as if in search of Peeping Toms but Andy goaded her until, shyly, she pulled her T-shirt over her head to bare her breasts, then held a towel over them with her left hand, taking her white shorts off with the other.
She lay on her tummy on the towel Andy had spread out for her and covered her back and bottom with more towels.
‘You look mummified,’ he said. ‘Rather defeats the object.’
‘Sorry, Andy. I should have warned you I’m not a sun worshiper.’
‘No worries,’ he said. ‘Just sniff in all that ozone.’
‘What about you, Master? You’d better use sun block.’
‘I didn’t bring any.’
He fell silent.
***
Chrissie knew she must have dozed because very gradually she became aware of voices. She turned her head and saw Andy talking to three men who were standing by a boat that was pulled up on the beach but with its stern still in the water. The men all seemed to know each other and Chrissie remembered what Andy had said about having mates he went fishing with.
Then her heart began to thump as Andy and one of the men started to walk towards her. She was very conscious that she didn’t have a stitch on under the towels draped over her body.
‘Chrissie, this is Roy. That’s his boat.’
‘Hi Roy,’ she said.
‘Hi Chrissie. We’ve got a crate of beers on board. Piers and Maurice’ll bring ashore.’
Roy was a big man, powerful, muscular, with a deep tan. He shouted to his mates.
‘No, I’ll leave them in the water to keep them cool,’ Piers shouted back. ‘I’ll just bring half a dozen for the moment.’
‘Don’t forget the opener,’ Andy reminded them.
When everyone was gathered and had a beer each, Chrissie looked from one to the other. They were all magnificent specimens, roughly the same height, over six feet, all trim and toned with narrow waists, like bodybuilders but not quite so muscle bound.
They all had the same slightly orange tan which looked a bit artificial and all wore shades.
When they pulled their T-shirts off and then dropped their shorts, Chrissie got another surprise and felt things were becoming surreal.
Each man was massively endowed.
Chrissie guessed their cocks would be ten inches in length if not more. Was it just a co-incidence that three men with enormous pricks had got together or was there some explanation? They were so well hung they were almost freaks of nature. Andy’s cock now looked tiny by comparison when she had thought his was about average in length and girth. But if Andy was, say, six inches, another four inches would represent a huge extension.
‘What about you, Chrissie?’ Roy enquired. ‘You don’t have to be modest with us.’
‘She’s worried about catching the sun,’ explained Andy. ‘We don’t have any sun cream.’
‘I’ve got some in the boat,’ said Roy. ‘I’ll fetch it.’
When Roy came back with the sun block, Andy suggested he rub it on Chrissie himself. The look he gave her left no doubt in Chrissie’s mind that she was expected to comply.
She remained on her tummy while Roy lifted the towels. The other men stood over her watching as Roy poured cream into his palms and knelt in the sand beside her, beginning with her shoulders. When he leaned over, she felt the tip of his cock brush across her thigh.
Chrissie felt him rub her back and then his hands dropped to massage her bottom.
‘Juicy fat arse,’ he said as though it was a compliment.
There were murmurs of agreement from the others.
She knew they would be looking at her stripes and drawing their own conclusions but they didn’t comment.
‘Okay, Chrissie,’ Roy said. ‘Flip over for me.’
So she had no choice but to let them see everything. No choice but to let Roy caress her breasts. No chance to protest when his hands touched her pubic hair.
A slight smile played on Andy’s lips.
Part of her was enjoying being the centre of interest. Their eyes crawled over her body covering every inch including the parts Roy’s wandering hands didn’t cover. Their lust for her was palpable and their enormous erections seemed to bend towards her in homage. She had never been admired by a group of men before; it was exciting but made her feel very vulnerable. Four men with erect cocks knelt round her…four men with pricks like poles wanting her.
Chrissie looked at Andy again and he nodded towards Roy, nothing more than the slightest indication.
She cupped her hands round his balls and held them firmly as she took the head of his prick in her mouth knowing it was likely she’s have to suck all of them in turn.
She had never seen one like it. The blue veins down the rigid shaft were very prominent and the helmet was red and bulbous, swollen and angry looking. She could only take about half the length into her mouth before gagging and she felt inadequate.
‘More, baby,’ Roy demanded and she saw Andy’s expression willing the same. Chrissie managed another half inch but physically no more was possible.
She sucked hard to try to make it up to him and ran her fingernails down the part of his shaft which was still exposed.
When he came she tried her best to swallow most of his gushing semen but some escaped and ran down her chin and neck. He reached out and gripped her by her hair so that she stayed in position and waited till his shuddering and juddering had subsided.
They lay her on her back on one of the towels. Piers knelt astride her head and lowered his cock into her sticky mouth where some of Roy’s come still oozed from the corners. He thrust downwards to fuck her mouth and this time she choked and sputtered. At the same moment she felt one of them open up her legs and slide four fingers into her slippery quim.
She recovered from her coughing and took Pier’s member in her mouth again, gathering as much spit as possible to bathe the head and shaft. She could feel his tip ram past her uvula and tonsils and threaten to fill her throat. He stopped thrusting and put all his effort into pushing and penetrating further up as if a machine was cutting a new coal face. She tried desperately to relax but the gagging reflex was trying to resist again. She was hurting yet she knew her juices were flowing over the hand of the man fist fucking her like a well-oiled piston.
When Piers came his cock was so far down it was like drinking a stream of thick warm liquid injected into the back of her throat. But again, she had to try to relax or she knew she would choke or, embarrassingly, she might regurgitate his semen. But it was almost a contradiction in terms,
striving
to relax. Easier said than done.
But she succeeded in taking every drop.
Maurice, the youngster of the group, lay on his back on the towel with his legs wide apart. She had to kneel on the sand and lean over him to fellate him. This raised her bottom and the other two men, Andy staying out of it, both put their hands under her to feel her sex and her asshole.
Chrissie found the position was more comfortable for her but she wasn’t able to take the whole of Maurice’s cock any more than she had succeeded with the first two men. She compensated him by masturbating the part that she wasn’t able to cover with her gaping mouth. He moaned as he laid back and occasionally put his own hand down there as if seeking to ameliorate the agony he was experiencing. Chrissie’s head bobbed up and down rapidly as she sucked him hard in a rapid rhythm. Watching her give head to his two companions must have made Maurice very horny because he came before she expected. Inevitably some of his spunk ran back down his shaft but she drank up most of it.
The blood red sun was dropping towards the horizon and she felt a breeze ruffle her bedraggled hair. Her large mouth was sore with sucking. She expected she looked as used and raddled as some old whore.
‘Roy’ll give you a little trip out to the island,’ said Andy.
‘Oh, I don’t know…will you be coming, Sir?’
‘Boat only takes four,’ said Andy. ‘I get plenty of trips. Take the opportunity. It’s lovely and cool out on the water at this time.’
Chrissie felt her mouth go dry. ‘No, I’ll pass, thanks. I’m scared I’ll get seasick.’
‘It’s as calm as a millpond,’ said Roy. ‘Come on.’ He stretched out a hand to pull her up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andy pick up her T- shirt and shorts, fold them and sit down on them. Roy was still holding her hand.
She knew he wanted her to go with them. She knew he
required
her to go with them. And without her clothes.
She had no choice but to go.
Roy took her by the hand and led her down the shelving beach to the other two men, one now sitting in the boat, the other waiting by the stern with his feet in the breaking waves.
The last thing Andy shouted to her was, ‘Be sure and call them
Sir
, like you do with me.’
Roy and his friend Piers pushed the boat off the sand and when it was floating again they clambered in. Chrissie was sitting on the bench seat that ran round the stern and Roy had to lean across her to start the outboard motor. The reflection of the dying sun was still dazzling and Chrissie had to shade her eyes despite her baseball hat and sunglasses.
Her heart was still pounding. Maurice was leering at her and taking pictures with his mobile phone.
She had to put her trust in Andy.
It looked clear the meeting in the cove had been planned. It was highly unlikely Andy had met his friends by chance. What was more, it looked as if it had been planned well ahead because she had been with Andy all day and he hadn’t used his mobile phone at any point on the journey down to the coast.
Chrissie wondered if he was putting her through some test again. Without actually saying so, he’d made it clear he wanted her to go with these three men. She assumed he knew what they wanted her for, what they would do to her. Feelings of nausea swept through her. They could do anything. She was completely at their mercy.
Roy and Piers, who were considerably older than Maurice, made it less obvious that they were ogling her naked body. They were strongly built men, Roy particularly, and Chrissie knew she would have little chance of escaping when they reached dry land.
Did she want to escape?
She was relieved they hadn’t assaulted her the moment they were out of sight of the beach and were in open water. There was no one to witness anything that happened now. She guessed Maurice would have had his hands all over her but for the presence of the others.
Although they had drunk some beer, they were far from drunk yet there was more menace in the fact that they seemed controlled and purposeful.
She wanted to please Andy and if she could keep her nerve, she might be able to bank more credit in her account with him. There were so many potential rivals in the college and she desperately wanted to be his favourite.
Chrissie had not seen any sign of an island when she’d looked out to sea from the beach but now she could see land ahead.
The boat was tied up alongside a couple of bobbing rowing boats and adjacent to a rickety landing stage and she was escorted onto a shingle beach
below a large white cottage with outbuildings which appeared to be their destination.
Part of Chrissie’s mind registered how tranquil and picturesque the place looked at the same time as she felt all her fears returning. The men led her through a white gate and up a path towards the brightly painted front door and she noticed a well-stocked and well tended garden on both sides. Her mounting sense of dread was contradicted by the ordinariness of her surroundings, a strange dissonance between what her eyes could see and what she was feeling, something like a dreamer sensing everything is not all that it seems, without any tangible evidence, a pre-echo of some misfortune or disaster.
As she entered the house and was led into the kitchen, Chrissie was greeted by a middle-aged woman who offered to pour her lemonade from a jug which also contained ice and slices of lemon.
The friendly face and the welcoming drink added to the circumstantial evidence that all was well but did nothing to change Chrissie’s state of mind.
‘Dominika is here, Sir,’ the woman addressed Roy. ‘She’s gone through.’
‘Thank you, Mary. This is Chrissie, by the way.’
Mary held out her hand and Chrissie took it. ‘Hello, Chrissie. You are very beautiful.’
Chrissie noticed they used each other’s names readily enough which might suggest there was nothing suspect about their activities and Mary was about as matronly and reassuring as it was possible to be. But who was Dominika? The name sounded Russian.
The three men took Chrissie through the house and out to what she thought must be one of the large outbuildings she had seen from outside. Mary followed behind. The place they entered was a vast space and in different parts there were sets like those used on stage or for films with lighting rigs and a gantry above them. It wasn’t the kind of building you expected to find attached to a typically English cottage with roses round the door but what better disguise?