Chapter 15

"This is an unusual surprise," Steven Hayes commented, sipping the martini Marsha Stewart had mixed him from behind her small bar.

"It is, isn't it?" she smiled, coming from behind the bar with a martini of her own and seating herself next to him. "I've always been so fond of you, Steven." Her hand dropped to his lap, rubbing.

Steve could feel his cock growing hard, stiffening, as she touched it. At first, he couldn't say anything, putting the drink down, then he let himself touch her left tit. "I never knew this side of you existed, Marsha," he said. "You're always so ... so business-like at the office."

"That's only during business hours," she grinned, holding his cock-bulge. "Y'know, Steve, all that talk over at the office is true. You do have a big dick."

He laughed. "I didn't know everybody talked about it."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she chuckled, playing with his rigid hunk of meat.

He sipped more of his drink. She watched him carefully, stroking his huge hard-on. "So this is why you suddenly decided to invite me over to your place for drinks."

She ignored him. "I often wondered myself how great you are in bed. My secretary, Carole Harris, says you've got the best set of balls in town."

Steve noted her cautiously. "Carole told you that?"

Marsha nodded, giggling. "She says you're King Cock as far as she's concerned."

Steve could hardly hold his drink any more. "Jesus, Marsha, you really put a lot of booze in this one. I don't know if I can finish it, it's so strong."

"Come on, now," she purred, pushing the glass to his lips. "Show me what a big boy you are."

He shrugged, then gulped down the remainder of the drink. Marsha did not lift her hand from his lap. He looked at her, and saw that she was watching him carefully. That bitch was up to something.

"Maybe I'd better get going," he said. "I feel loaded already."

Marsha grinned. "I can tell that!" Her hand cupped his rock-hard prick. She saw that his dick was thicker than her own wrist.

"No, Marsha, I really think I should." He tried getting up, but he stumbled. He felt tipsy. And warm.

"What's the matter, Steve?" Marsha asked him slyly. "Can't handle your liquor?"

He pushed himself away from her and started up again. She did nothing to prevent him from leaving. He groped for the arm of the couch and tried pushing himself up. The dizziness came and he found himself slipping.

Steve fell back onto the couch. His legs felt heavy, sluggish. "Jesus, Marsha, what...."

Marsha got up from the couch and stood over him. "What's the matter, Steve? Do you feel drunk? Or maybe it's because I slipped something in your drink."

"What...." He could hardly move.

"Don't worry, baby," she sneered. "It was just a mickey. It'll put you out in a minute or two. Then we'll start playing a game...."

"Marsha, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Carole Harris!" Marsha spat at him. "You've been screwing around with my broad!"

Steve wanted to talk, but his lips felt thick.

"I know you slipped it to her," she said, gesturing to his prick. "And now I've slipped it to you. But don't think this is it. The best is yet to come...."

Steve lifted his arm to pick himself up, then slipped into unconsciousness.

He knew he was lying on a bed when he started to come to. Marsha's bed. She must have a lot of muscle in her to pick him up and put him on it. Even though he was skinny, he was solid. His eyes opened slowly, and he saw that he was tied to the bedposts, positioned so that he was lying on his stomach. She stripped him of all his clothes. His limp cock was smothered beneath him.

"It's about time," she sighed from behind him. "I never thought that stuff would wear off."

"Marsha, you're crazy!" Steve growled. "Untie me and we'll forget all this!"

"No dice, baby," she spat at him. "I brought you here so we could have a little fun."

"Fun?" he repeated, a bit weary. "What kind of fun?"

"Oh ... just something Carole and I love doing."

There she went again, talking about Carole. He couldn't believe Carole was a dyke. She was too soft, too feminine to do stuff like that.

Marsha reached into her drawer and pulled out her long dildo with the straps. It was the same thirteen-inch one she had used on Carole the other night. "I'm gonna show you what it feels like to be fucked with a long, thick pecker!"

"Oh, God!" he said, his face draining of blood. "You aren't going to ... not with that!"

"You bet your ass, baby," she said. "I'm gonna fuck you with my dildo. And there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it except take it right up the ass!"

Steve began struggling on the bed. The ropes were tied too tightly for him to free himself. "You crazy bitch! You're out of your mind!"

"You're probably right," she scoffed. "Okay, stud, open those legs, or I'll open them for you!"

Steve clamped his long, thin hairy legs together with all the strength he could muster. "I won't let you do it. You haven't got a chance."

"We'll see," she said, pulling the straps firmly around her waist. The long dildo stuck out from her crotch, covering most of her hairy cunt. She slid onto the bed and sat on top of his ass. "It'll only hurt more if you struggle."

"Shove it, you DYKE!" he yelled.

"I intend to," she gloated, then gripped his legs with her powerful hands. Marsha had extraordinary strength for a woman. She tugged at his legs, pulling them apart, and working herself between them. They wouldn't budge.

"Okay, you asked for it!" she said, then poked him roughly in the balls with the tip of the dildo. He yelped and released the pressure from his legs. She clutched them and yanked his legs open.

"Don't do it," he begged her. "For God's sake, Marsha, you can't!"

"This'll teach you to mess with my chick, stud," she hissed, then let him have it. She rammed the thirteen-inch dildo so hard up his ass that he cried out in excruciating pain. She jerked her crotch hard so that he would feel the thickness and length of the long rubber prick.

"UGGHH!" he gritted his teeth.

"Do you feel it up in your guts?" Marsha crooned, pumping her hips and dildo into him. "Is it ripping you apart?"

"You're killing me with it!" Steven was turning blue. "Take it out, please. Take it out!"

"No way," she said, her body pinned to his, her ass moving in great strokes, pushing the strapped dildo deep into his asshole. "I'm not even nice enough to use Vaseline or K-Y. Just your own ass juice. Don't you love it, baby? Just ... love it ... "

Steve's face was flushed deep red, his muscles in his arms and legs strained. He battled with the ropes wrapped securely about his wrists, tearing them. He buried his face into the pillow, smothering his whimpers.

"To think, you fuck all those girls with your big cock. And now you're getting fucked. You're feeling exactly what those chicks feel when you stick it into their pussy. You're getting all of it, baby. I'm sinking every inch into you."

"Oh, Christ!" he moaned, hardly able to breathe. She was plowing that thirteen-inch dildo every bit of the way into his asshole. She pushed and pushed, sinking it into his guts.

"You frigging cunt!" he barked.

"Keep talking like that, Steve," she gasped. "I like to hear it while I'm banging you. Ohh, what a nice, tight asshole you have. Even tighter than Carole's ... but that's only because I ram it up her butt more than I do with you!"

"Stop it...." he moaned. "Please ... stop it."

"Gonna fuck you good," she said. "Gonna jam it up your rear so bad you're gonna be shitting for a week!"

He bit down on his lip hard. "I ... I won't tell anybody that you did it ... not ever. Not at the office, not to Carole, not to anybody...."

She seethed with anger. "You're goddamn right you won't tell anybody at the office! You know what good friends I am with the publisher, Irving Greene. I could get you fired. In fact, I could get you blackballed, just like that. You'd be washed up, Steve. And there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it!"

"You ... you bitch!" he groaned.

"I'm gonna fuck you harder and harder," she purred. "Doesn't that feel good, baby? Real good?"

Steve felt the blood rushing to his head. That dildo, rammed all the way up his ass ... he was so warm, so warm. His wrists felt numb. Swirling, swirling....

"Fuck me, stud," she cackled. "Fuck me...." Those colors, the room so warm, open the windows, for crissakes, open the win-

The cool breeze of the night woke him. Marsha was pulling in front of his apartment building. He blinked.

"All right, get out of my car," Marsha told him, opening the door and pushing him out.

"How did I get in here?" he asked sluggishly.

"I called the doorman and had him help me carry you down. He smelled the booze on your breath and guessed you had too much to drink."

"You bitch!" he spat at her. "I could kill you."

"Come on, get out of here," she said, pushing him out. "But remember, if I find out that you've seen Carole again, you won't have a job to crawl to."

He eased himself out of her Mercedes and she slammed the door shut. She drove off quickly, revving her motor as she did.

He took one last look at her and went in.