My New Boss (2). free porn video

On Monday Ms Nwakor was working from home. I sent her my report on time, like an obedient schoolboy. Her PA has the details of the horribly early flight for Wednesday morning and the hotel where the conference is taking place. Ms Nwakor has mailed me instructions as to my brief – I am to attend those presentations which she does not, and make detailed notes. She will meet me at the end of the day for me to hand them over. That’s all. Meetings all day, a dinner in the evening, one night in the hotel. In my own room, apparently.

I arrived in Enugu on Wednesday morning glassy-eyed from the early start and too much coffee at the airport. A taxi is waiting to take me to the hotel which is right in the middle of town, on Michael Okpara Square. House of Assembly to the south, elegant canal houses to the east … and the red light district to the west.

The day itself is pretty dull – bland corporate presentations by managers from all over Nigeria. I dutifully take notes, feeling as if am on a school assignment. Am nervous, eager to please and still confused as well as aroused by memories of what had happened on Friday. It’s hard to concentrate. A friendly Ijaw colleague named Preye makes a bit of conversation with me. Apparently the plan is to hit the town once the formal dinner is over, maybe have a look at the red light district … just a look, of course.

The last presentation finishes and I wait in the lobby for Ms Nwakor. There she is, immaculate as ever. Today the silk blouse is white. Black skirt, stockings and heels.

“Agunna, do you have those notes for me?”

“Yes Miss, of course.” I hand them over. She looks over them. This looks good, Agunna, very thorough. Well done.” My heart leaps at the praise. Ridiculous that a grown man could be held in such thrall but I cannot help it. “I will see you at the dinner, Agunna. Business dress code still applies there. If you go out afterwards you may wish to change into something more casual. I have one more presentation to give – Mr Udozor the manager for Roban, has asked me to address his graduate trainees. That will be all, Agunna. And thank you for the notes.” Just a note of warmth in her voice? Hard to tell. Yes Miss.” I see her turn towards a group of expectant young colleagues who are waiting at the door of a meeting room. School again, I think. A tall, striking fair lady at the back of the group catches my eye. No-one like that at your old school, I think.

The dinner is harmless but boring. I sit next to Preye who is very excited about hitting the town afterwards. Mr Udozor gives an over-long speech. Ms Nwakor is deep in conversation with fellow executives. As soon as I can, I escape to my room, put on casual clothes. Then back down to the lobby as people start to gather, barely recognisable in their non-work gear.

Then I see her across the room. Non-work gear indeed! So she is going to socialise with the rest? Even go to the red light district? Ms Nwakor is wearing a classic little black sleeveless dress with a neckline just low enough to give a glimpse of luscious cleavage. The dress hugs her slim figure perfectly. She has black fishnet stockings – I am now sure that she only ever wears stockings – and black patent high heels. She has let her hair down – literally. It tumbles in dark luxuriant waves over her shoulders. Around her neck is some kind of black ribbon choker. There’s something a bit odd about the dress, mind. I get a little closer, then realise what it is. Her little black dress is made of leather. Jesus Christ!

The crowd moves off, out of the hotel – and westwards. Preye has latched onto me and is chattering away about the red light district, but I pay him little attention. Ms Nwakor is elsewhere in the group but I cannot seem to get close to her. I look around at the women in the brothel windows, luridly lit, seeming to float in the dark like the ghosts of sin. Touts at the entrances of sex clubs try to grab my trade – “Best girls in town!” “Our girls are really filthy!” “Come on gents, give us a try! Live pussy show!” The insistent thump of dance music thunders from the doors, no doubt the soundtrack to the lapdancers and strippers and sex shows inside. Smaller groups of men are breaking off from the crowd, looking at the individual establishments. Preye starts to haggle with a burly doorman over admission prices to something called the Thai Banana Bar. Then I heard a soft female voice close by.

This is tourist stuff, Agunna” It is her, right next to me. I can smell her perfume rising from her cleavage. The brothel lights glint in her glasses. Her choker is a black ribbon with a tiny jewelled ornament in the shape of a black flower.

“Miss?”

“This is tourist stuff. These are shoddy rip-off joints, no quality. Here’s a choice for you, Agunna – you can follow Preye and the boys and pay over the odds to watch a bored little Thai girl push bananas up her twat while a fake-titted Ibibio skims your credit card behind the bar. Or you can follow me.” There is no choice, of course. She begins to walk away purposefully towards a narrow side alley. I follow her. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see that Preye is staring open-mouthed at the sight of you going off with Ms Nwakor.

In the darkness of the alley, away from the lurid lights of the brothels and bars, she stops at an unremarkable front door. The plate above the doorbell has no name, just a small logo – a black flower. She presses the bell, an Igbo voice crackles from the intercom. She replies in Igbo. The door opens. Inside is a tastefully lit reception area. A pretty girl behind a desk greets Ms Nwakor, who shows her a small black card or pass of some kind which she must have taken from her handbag. More Igbo is spoken. Ms Nwakor signs a book, the girl gives her two cards both bearing the number 52. English is spoken here, Agunna,” explains Ms Nwakor, “but not at reception. It deters the tourists. Take this card. This is a private members’ club and no cash changes hands. If you want a drink or anything else, show the card, it will go on my account.” I wonder what she means by “anything else.” I look around. Stairs lead to an upper floor. In front of me is a heavy-looking double door. From behind it I can hear music – not thumping dance music but some kind of slow jazz – and voices and laughter, as if the room is full of people. Ms Nwakor pushes the door open and walks through. I follow her.

And I stop dead in my tracks. I seem to have walked straight into the middle of some kind of orgy. I look around, trying to take it all in. Am in a large room, set out more or less like an upmarket nightclub. At one end is a small stage or platform. In front of that, tables with stools around them. Around the sides of the room, booths with fixed seats, some have had curtains drawn across them. The decor features the recurring motif of the black flower.

In the booths I can see into, couples are having sex. It’s as simple as that. Hands are up skirts, breasts are bared and being fondled and sucked, cocks are being sucked. Strippers are doing close-up lap dances and letting themselves be groped and fingered. Some couples are simply fucking. Some of the couples look to be real couples, others are clearly client plus stripper/hooker. I assume that behind the curtains it is more of the same.

In the corner is a live band – fully clothed – a trio playing slow sensual jazz. On the stage is an old-fashioned couch or chaise longue. On that, a naked young man and woman are somehow moving beautifully to the music and genuinely having sex. They make sinuous stylised movements while she sucks his cock, then he licks her cunt. People sitting at the tables watch. Do sit down, Agunna” Ms Nwakor's voice snaps me out of my amazement. She is sitting at one of the tables. I join her but cannot take my eyes off the dancers. The female dancer is extraordinarily beautiful. Tall, willowy but not skinny, with perfect toned buttocks and thighs, and small pert breasts like little apples. Elegant and lithe in every movement, even in the blatant sex acts she is performing a few feet away from me. She has fine features, high cheekbones and big eyes – hazel, you think. Her hair is short and very pale blonde. For a moment I think I have seen her before, but surely that is not possible. Her pussy is fully shaved. And at the moment it is full of the male dancer’s cock.

“Champagne, sir? Madam? On the house.” I look up. A bar girl is standing in front of me carrying a silver tray on which are glasses of champagne. She is wearing a silk sarong or wrap type thing round her lower half – and is naked above the waist. She is of Efik appearance, short and curvy, with a big bum, big boobs and a big smile.

“Er … yes please,” I stammered. Would you like to taste?” I nodded. She puts the tray down, takes a glass of champagne and pours a few drops of its contents onto one breast so it dribbles onto the big brown nipple. She gently holds her breast up for me to suck. Not quite believing what is happening, I suck the champagne from her big heavy tit. “Er … ve-very good, thank you,” I somehow manage to say. She passes me the glass, then repeats the exact same procedure with Ms Nwakor, only using her other breast. Ms Nwakor thanks the girl, who smiles broadly and moves on to the next table, buttocks jiggling happily under the sarong. “Let me explain about this place, Agunna– oh and do carry on watching the dancers while I do.” On stage the girl is riding the boy in a reverse cowgirl position. “This is the Black Rose, Enugu oldest and most respected private sex club. The owner is an old friend of mine and the place has been in her family for generations, passed down the female line. The only qualifications needed to become a member are discretion, and a respect for the place and the people who work here. Couples come here to have sex or to swap partners. All the dancers and bar girls are whores – very good ones, I might add, and very well paid and looked after – who offer sex as well as drinks and dances, either in the booths or in rooms upstairs. But there’s no pressure and no obligation, you can sit over a glass of champagne and just watch the dances all night if you like. I thought you might find it interesting.” I was simply speechless. Both of us turn to watch the stage. The fair girl is now being vigorously sodomised over the arm of the couch. Then the boy pulls out and ejaculates copiously over her buttocks and back. Both dancers stand and take a bow. There is a polite s**tter of applause, as if for an after-dinner speech, then they disappear behind a curtain.

“Agunna,” says Ms Nwakor, “I’m going to chat to the owner for a while. If you need another drink or anything just catch the eye of a bar girl and put it on the tab.” Again I wondered if she meant to say “or anything”. She walks away towards a door that looks private. I try to get my head round it all. Then another female voice, this time with a slight Igbo accent:

“May I join you?” It is the fair dancer, now dressed in a skin-tight black lace vest top and and ultra-short red PVC skirt. She smiles and sits down next to me before I can respond. “First time here, huh? What do you think? Did you like the dance?” “Amazing,” I say. “It’s all just amazing, incredible.” She smiles. She really is gorgeous. Her manner is natural, putting me at ease; under the confidence there is a sense of gentleness and vulnerability which makes her all the more alluring.

“My name is Ekaete, by the way,” she says. I introduce myself. “So Agunna, if you like I can give you a nice little dance, just for you, at the table here …” she has started to stroke the back of my hand ever so gently with one slim finger. I cannot look away from her huge eyes. “Or if you’d like we could have a more private dance, in a booth. And then maybe you wouldn’t be able to resist going a little further? That would be fine by me. Or if you really want to treat yourself we can go to an upstairs room. Up there you could do anything to me – and I really do mean anything – and nobody would know. I am a very obedient girl, very eager to please. I very very rarely say no …” It is the good old lapdancer’s or hooker’s spiel but by God she is convincing. My heart is melting, my cock is stiffening and my brain is barely functioning. “Just a moment, let me think …” Am thinking the unthinkable. Lap dances and sex with a hooker, put on Ms Nwakor's tab? Impossible … but so so tempting.

And then Ms Nwakor's voice, just behind you. “Hello Ekaete remember me? How did you enjoy my presentation this afternoon?”

Ekaete almost jumps up in shock, panic in her eyes, wrapping her arms around her scantily clad torso as if to protect herself. “Ms Nwakor, Oh I don’t believe it! Oh please please don’t tell Mr Udozor.

So that’s why she looked familiar! She was the tall fair management trainee who had caught my eyes in the hotel – which now seems a million miles away. Agunna, this is Ekaete Uwemedimo, whom Mr Udozor rates as one of the most promising trainees in the Enugu office. And whom Kodili the owner of the Black Rose, rates as one of the best whores in town. Very popular and obliging, so I hear.” Ekaete is in a state of utter panic. “Oh don’t worry,” continues Ms Nwakor, “Mr Udozor is more broad-minded than you probably think, and he will not care how you choose to supplement your income. You don’t have to worry about anything. I ask just one thing of you.”

“Anything, Ms Nwakor anything!” says Ekaete. I have booked one of the upstairs rooms for the evening, originally for Agunna and myself, but now, I would like you to join us.” In her hand she has a key with a numbered fob. “Both of you follow me please.”

Ms Nwakor leads me and Ekaete out of the main room, back into reception and up a steep staircase. As I climb the stairs I have a clear view up Ekaete's tiny skirt of her perfect buttocks separated by a black lacy thong. Ms Nwakor unlocks the door to a room. The three of us enter. She locks the door again.

The room is not what you had expected. Not a dungeon with whips and chains on the walls, nor a cliché red-velvet brothel bedroom. It is a plain, tasteful room, softly lit. There is a double bed, with space on all sides around it. The head of the bed, but not the foot, has metal posts and a rail with bars. There is a cupboard in one corner, an armchair in the other. The only thing that stops it looking like a hotel room is the fact that there is a very large floor-to-ceiling mirror taking up the middle of each of the four walls. It means that everywhere you look there are multiple reflections of everything. The window is slightly ajar, and the sounds of the red light district – music and voices – filter in from a distance. Both of you, get undressed, then stand next to each other in the middle of the room. Ekaete, keep your shoes on” says Ms Nwakor. Wordlessly, Ekaete and I obeyed. I striped off. Ekaete peels off her top, wriggles out of the tiny skirt and the thong. She and I stand next to each other, naked. Ms Nwakor looks at me dispassionately. I can see the three of us reflected in the mirrors. I run my eyes over Ekaete's reflection. In her heels she is nearly as tall as me. She seems to consist of shades of blonde and tawny: light blonde hair, golden evenly tanned skin even at her shaved crotch, no tan lines, hazel eyes, caramel-coloured nipples large and prominent on her small breasts. There is a pronounced gap between the tops of her thighs and I can see that she has rather protuberant labia. This and the large nipples seem almost incongruous on her slim, smooth body. Ms Nwakor, on the other hand, is all contrasts: pale skin, dark hair, dark blue eyes – and, as I already know, pink nipples and black pubes. But she still has her dress on.

“Well well, my young colleagues,” she says, “you are a fine looking couple, I must say.” A slight smile. “I’d like you to kiss.”

Ekaete and I hesitated.

“Go on,” says Ms Nwakor, “Kiss. Snog. Make out. I want to watch. Ekaete and I turn towards each other. She puts her arms up around my head and draws me into the most exquisite of deep French kisses. Her hot little tongue probes my mouth. blood rushes to my cock, my head spins. I put my hands on her curving hips and pull her towards me, my erection jutting against her belly. Ekaete softly kisses my ears and neck, her nipples are hard against my chest.

“Oh how lovely,” says Ms Nwakor “do carry on.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Ms Nwakor move towards the cupboard, open it and take something – what? – out. Then she is behind me as am kissing Ekaete deeply. Something soft and slightly rough is stroking my back from between my shoulder blades down to the base of my spine. I shiver and tingle. Another soft stroke, this time down to my buttocks. Then something reaching in between my legs from behind to stroke the underside of my scrotum. What the fuck is happening? Then whatever it is, it is gone. Ms Nwakor is moving round to behind Ekaete. In her hand is … what? … ah, now I see. A leather riding crop. Oh Jesus. She had been teasing me from behind with a leather whip. And now she is doing the same to Ekaete, you can feel her tense slightly. Don’t stop just yet, my dears,” says Ms Nwakor. Then you hear the sharp smack of the whip on Ekaete's buttock. Ekaete tenses, and pulls me closer. I feel strangely protective towards her even though I know she must have played games like this a million times. Another crack of the whip, Ekaete stifles a whimper as she kisses me. Then Ms Nwakor moves round behind me. Ekaete whispers to you “It’s OK Agunna, hang in there, you’re safe with me …” at the very moment that I feel the sting of the whip on my arse. And again. I hung on to Ekaete for dear life now. Another blow, and another. Sharper and more stinging than the spanks I felt last time. Real pain. And real arousal – my cock is just getting harder and harder. Then she is behind Ekaete again, a couple more blows. Then she steps away.

“Oh well done,” she says, “you two really are good. I’m going to have fun with you. Help me get undressed, please.” Ekaete and I disentangle ourselves. Ms Nwakor approaches Ekaete, then turns her back. Ekaete unzips the black leather mini dress, it slips to the floor. Underneath, Ms Nwakor is wearing a black bra, black lacy suspender belt, black fishnet stockings – and no panties. “Bra please, Agunna” she says nonchalantly. With shaking hands I unclip her bra strap just I have done before that night in the office. She puts her clothes on the chair and turns to look at you. Big breasts jutting, nipples hard. “Ekaete, I would like you to suck Agunna's cock. Agunna try not to cum just yet, I’m going to be needing that hard-on in a moment.”

So no pressure then! But before I have time to think, Ekaete is on her knees in front of me and has taken my cock into her mouth. I look down at her, she looks up at me with those big hazel eyes. Her soft warm mouth engulfs my cock, moves slowly back and forth. Christ she is good at this! How the fuck are my supposed to hold back? I look up at Ms Nwakor – she is playing with her pussy as she stands and watches me getting fellated. The look on her face is cool and dispassionate. I look down again at where Ekaete is giving me the blow job of a lifetime. She works her way down my shaft with soft kisses until she reaches my scrotum which she starts to lick like a cat licking a kitten. I feel as if am about to explode.

Ms Nwakor notices my discomfort, walks over and gently guides Ekaete's head away from me with the whip. “That’ll do for the moment, Ekaete, I have a use for that erection. Agunna, lie on the bed.” Ekaete obeys and so do I. Ms Nwakor goes to the cupboard again and brings out what looks like a black cord or ribbon – silk? – with some kind of loop at each end. “Agunna, put your hands up to the head of the bed. Ekaete, you know what do do.” She passes the cord to Ekaete who moves round behind me, slips one loop over my right wrist, passes the cord round one of the bars at the bed head and slips the other loop over my left wrist. She tightens the loops so they are firmly round my wrists.

Am tied to the bed, naked, with a monstrous erection. Ms Nwakor gets on the bed and squats over you just as she had done in the office. “Stay hard for me Agunna I will let you cum inside me but I want a decent fuck first.” Then she guides me into her cunt and bears down hard on me. Her tight wet vagina engulfs me. She slides herself up and down just as she did before. Again, am transfixed by her breasts. Then: “Ekaete don’t be left out. Sit on his face.” Ekaete climbs onto the bed, and onto me. With her back to Ms Nwakor she too straddles me, steadies herself on the bed head, lowers herself onto my face. My mouth seeks out those luscious cunt lips, I suck them into my mouth and work my tongue between them so that she is in me and me in her. All the time Ms Nwakor is riding my cock, sliding up and down the shaft, grinding down onto my balls. I feel the lace and net of her stockings rubbing on my hips. Ekaete mimics the rhythm, grinding hard onto my face, almost stifling me. I cannot really see or hear anything, all my senses are engulfed by the two women’s vaginas on my cock and mouth. Ekaete is streaming wet, I had to keep swallowing her juice or else I will gag on it. I hear a muffled thwack and feel Ekaete jolt. And again. And again. Oh my God, Ms Nwakor is spanking Ekaete's buttocks as she rides me. I hear Ekaete moan. Then a small delicate finger starts to insinuate itself into Ekaete's pussy as I suck and lick it. Ms Nwaklr is fingering Ekaete's cunt. I lick the finger hungrily. It moves slightly back and I realise that now Ms Nwakor is probing Ekaete's anus. And all the time Ms Nwakor's tight vagina rides up and down, up and down on my cock.

It can’t last. I let out a muffled roar into Ekaete's pussy and feel my cock explode inside Ms Nwakor's pussy. Spasm after spasm racks my aching bollocks. I feel the wetness of my own spunk flooding Ms Nwakor's cunt. For a moment the two women are both still, weighing down on me. I could blissfully suffocate like this. My cock twitches inside Ms Nwakor's cunt. I feel her lift herself off me. Then Ekaete too climbs off. I feel my face is sticky with her secretions.

“You did well to hold on for so long, Agunna” says Ms Nwakor, “Untie him, Ekaete And lick his cock clean, there’s a good girl.” Ekaete dutifully undoes the cord around my wrists, then kneels next to me and ever so gently licks the mixture of my sperm and Ms Nwakor's cunt juice from my cock and balls. Then she licks her own juices from my face. And kisses me tenderly. The taste of her mouth is indescribable.

“Now lick me clean, Ekaete” says Ms Nwakor, and Ekaete obeys, lying back on the bed briefly as Ms Nwakor squats over her face. Then both women get off the bed.

“Agunna, I would like you to get hard again but I appreciate that this may take a little while. Feel free to sit and watch Ekaete and me,” is Ms Nwakor’s next command. Slowly, in a daze and unable to take my eyes off the two women, I sit in the armchair. There is a moment’s stillness in the room. Then, without warning, the diminutive Ms Nwakor with surprising force, roughly shoves the much taller Ekaete back onto the bed and simply jumps on her. Ekaete spreads her legs to welcome her mistress. Ms Nwakor grinds and humps her almost as if she were a man fucking a girl in missionary position. Ekaete wraps her impossibly long legs around Ms Nwakor's slim waist. Ms Nwakor kisses her forcefully, bites her neck and ears. From where I am, I have a full view of both women’s pussies and arseholes, of Ms Nwakor's hairy mound frotting against Ekaete's prominent clit. Am already becoming hard again. Ms Nwakor works her way down to Ekaete's little apple breasts, bites them, tugs and stretches the nipples in her teeth. Ekaete moans wordlessly. Now Ms Nwakor's hand is seeking out Ekaete's cunt. The middle finger probes its way in, deep and firmly. Ekaete spreads her legs widely. The index finger goes in too, she is finger-fucking hard now. Now a third finger. I am transfixed, I stand up and move closer to see better. Now Ms Nwakor makes her fingers and thumb into a cone shape, touching the tips together, and works the cone into Ekaete's vagina. Ekaete squirms and pushes back against Ms Nwakor's hand, the fingers are in as far as the knuckles. I see that there are bite marks on Ekaete's breasts, matching the whip marks on her buttocks. Then Ms Nwakor looks up. “Ekaete, doggy position please. Agunna, tie her hands to the bed.” I hesitate. Is this going too far? She senses my hesitation. “It’s all right, Agunba we know what we’re doing.” Ekaete nods in agreement and takes up position on all fours facing the head of the bed. I pick up the silk cord, slip it round one of her wrists, through the rail, round the other wrist. I am now standing at the head of the bed with Ekaete looking up at you, her face level with my increasingly stiff cock. “It’s OK Agunna she whispers, “this is me, this is what I do.” Her face is behind the bars of the bed like a captive a****l. “Let me suck you again,” she says. I push forward so my cock goes between the bars and into her welcoming mouth. At the same time Ms Nwakor has taken up position behind Ekaete and is doing something with her hand. You cannot make out what but Ekaete is pushing back onto her with some tension in her body as she continues to suck your cock. Ms Nwakor must be fisting her! Oh my God – Ms Nwakor has small hands but surely this is too much. Ekaete pulls away for a second and reassures you again: “Don’t worry Agunna, I love this,” then resumes the blow job. With her other hand Ms Nwakor starts to spank Ekaete, hard and fast. The impact of the spanking transmits itself through Ekaete to her mouth, I feel the movement on my cock. Am now very hard but not ready to cum – unlike Ekaete. She pulls away from my cock, rams herself back onto Ms Nwakor's fist and lets out an a****l yell. Liquid drips from her cunt onto the bed, her body spasms but is held in check by the cord. She trembles. I think see tears in her eyes, there is a sheen of sweat on her skin. Ms Nwakor withdraws her hand. “Untie her, Agunna, I obey. You are very aroused but now almost afraid at how far this is all going. Ms Nwakor whispers to Ekaete who nods. She kneels up in the middle of the bed. Now Ms Nwakor moves around so she is in front of Ekaete lies back and spreads her legs. Ekaete gently goes down on her, starts licking her cunt. “My turn to come, you see, Agunna” says Ms Nwakor almost absent-mindedly stroking Ekaete’s fine blonde hair. “You can help, of course. I want you to use her.”

At first I don’t understand.

“Use Ekaete. Fuck me with her. Fuck me through her.” You look at Ekaete, She makes a fantastically pornographic gesture, pointing with a free hand round to her raised rear end where I know her cunt is exposed.

She wants me to use Ekaete to fuck her. Now I understand.

I kneel behind Ekaete on the bed. I have full view of Ekaete’s pussy and arsehole. I can see that her pussy lips are swollen and dripping wet. My cock is now harder than I would ever have believed possible for human flesh and blood. Ekaete reaches round and takes hold of it gently in her slim hand. It feels absolutely enormous, so hard that it is almost more like a dildo than a real cock. She guides the tip of it to the moist opening of her cunt hole and then pushes back hard onto it. At the same time I give a hard thrust forward and am all the way in. Amazingly, after her vagina has already been so ravaged, it’s a tight fit, am stretching her and filling her right up.

I start to pound Ekaete's pussy hard and fast with my cock. And with each thrust I bang her face and tongue into Ms Nwakor's cunt and she gasps and moans. And she grinds back against Ekaete's face. And with each push of her hips she pushes Ekaete back onto my cock. So Ms Nwakor feels every movement of mine and I feel every movement of hers but they are transmitted through Ekaete's body, through her mouth to Ms Nwakor and through Ekaete's cunt to me.

This is what she meant by “Use Ekaete. Am using Ekaete's whole body as an extension of my cock, to fuck Ms Nwakor. And she is using Ekaete as an extension of her pussy, to fuck me. Fuck her hard, Agunna, and spank her, she likes it.” I obey, although am trying to find places on Ekaete’s arse cheeks to spank that are not already covered in red marks.

Myself and Ngozi Nwakor have turned promising management trainee Ekaete Uwemedimo into a human sex toy. And she loves every second of it. It can’t last, of course. Finally, Ms Nwakor comes – finally, she relinquishes control. Suddenly and without warning she doubles up as if in pain and lets out a weird, almost inhuman cry. Her body is racked with spasms which transmit themselves through Ekaete to me. I can see the muscles in her belly tensing as the climax courses through her. A stream of juice flows from her cunt and Ekaete almost gags on it before swallowing. Ms Nwakor spasms again, grabs Ekaete's head, grinds her pussy in Ekaete's face. Am still inside Ekaete and have not come yet. The three of us are still for a moment. Then, to my surprise, Ms Nwakor eases herself off the bed. “Pull out for a moment, Agunna.” All I can do is obey. I kneel behind Ekaete, massively erect. Ekaete moves up the bed and offers up her wrists to be tied to the rail again. Ms Nwakor ties her, then whispers something to her. She places a pillow under Ekaete's body. Then Ekaete moves from a doggy position and lies flat, face down, legs spread eagled, the pillow under her hips raising and separating her gorgeous buttocks, exposing her anus. “I want you to fuck her up the arse, Agunna, but first be a gentleman and rim her for some lubrication.” I prostrate myself and probe Ekaete's exquisite little arsehole with my tongue. She moves gently against meand moans with pleasure. Is there anything this girl will not do? I probe with my fingers. She is tight. I manoeuvre myself over her and position my knob at her anus. She thrusts back on me, trying to help. I push gently. Am are in. I do not want to hurt her but I very much want to fuck her. I slowly let my weight shove my full length into her bum. Her ring is very tight around the base of my cock.

“Fuck her, Agunna, sodomise her,” comes the command from Ms Nwakor. I start with slow steady thrusts, I pick up my rhythm and helps. She whispers again “It’s OK Agunna, it’s all good, I can take it.” I start to move faster. Am aware of Ms Nwakor on the bed behind me. Then suddenly – THWACK – the whip! And again! Ms Nwakor is whipping my buttocks as am buggering Ekaete! I heroically try to keep the rhythm steady, to go with Ekaete's movements, but the stinging blows are coming ever faster. And my cock is getting even harder. “Good, Agunna,” says Ms Nwakor, “that is impressive control.”

And then, at long last, I erupt. I have never known an orgasm like it. I cum so hard it actually hurts, and I keep on coming and it feels like am never ever going to stop. In jet after jet it floods Ekaete's rectum. It just keeps on coming and coming and coming. And the whipping has stopped. And the room is silent. From outside I can still hear the sounds of the street – the world of Preye and the lads, of tacky bars and dance music, a million miles from where I am now, and just now am not sure Ican ever return to it.

I pull out of Ekaete's anus. She turns on her back, looks up at me. Pats the bed, motioning me to lie down next to her. I do so. Ms Nwakor is still kneeling. “Let me lie between you,” she says, almost tenderly. Ekaete and I make room for her. She lies in the middle, further up the bed so that her breasts are level with mine and Ekaete's faces.

“You have done well, my young friends,” says Ms Nwakor, “not many people could have sustained that, but you two show great promise. Here, I will suckle you.” She puts an arm each around Ekaete and my head and lifts me up slightly until I can each get one of her nipples into my mouth. “Well done,” she whispers again.

Ekaete takes my hand in hers and rests it gently on Ms Nwakor's pubes. Ekaete and I suck gently on her big tits. After the passion and sheer erotic v******e of the evening, Ms Nwakor's big soft pale breast with its prominent nipple seems the safest and most comforting thing in the world. I bury my head in the mass of flesh, smell her perfume on the smooth skin, suck steadily like a c***d. Ekaete squeezes my hand, I squeezed back.

Again Ms Nwakor says, “Well done. And thank you.”

I look up at her “Thank you Ms Nwakor,” I whisper, and return to sucking on her nipple. “Thank you Ms Nwakor” says Ekaete She too carries on sucking.

“You can call me Ngozi,” says Ms Nwakor.