George and the Debt Pt. 07

Pager Update : Georgina is fully sissified and submissive, Chrissy is sliding into sex addiction, and Debs has decided she's had enough. A good plan is needed. : Update Ends

Debs lay under the latest man as he continued to thrust steadily. He'd been fucking her for about an hour and a half at this point. The first rush to orgasm, the sign of a man who'd not had sex for quite a while, was now a few hours ago. They'd lay together for about forty-five minutes afterwards as he told her a lot of boring things about his life. Then he'd got on top and started again and, ninety minutes in, he'd still not cum. His lovemaking was unimaginative and Debs was trying to show interest but had stopped saying things about an hour earlier, it seemed to have little effect on the man who was happy just to thrust and occasionally kiss her tits.

It did give her time to think though. She had decided that Anton's plans had to be disrupted. The trick was how to do that without him realising what was going on. She had no doubt that he'd quickly make true his threat to sell her and Chrissy to someone in the Middle East if he suspected they were plotting against him. Time to call mother, she thought.

Fenella lived in Scotland, near Braemar, and ran a little gift shop for the tourists. She visited a couple of times a year but never at Halloween, or the run up to Christmas, when the shop was very busy. Not the gift shop of course, which was at its most popular in the mid summer tourist season, no it was the backroom that contained books and supplies for the followers of Wicca. Serious, authentic, stuff in contrast to the little felted witches on broomsticks and models of the Loch Ness monster complete with tam-o-shanter hat that were sold in the tourist shop.

Debs was confident Fenella would help her, even though her mother had written George off as hopeless many years ago.

"Uh uh uh... oh god... aaah," whispered the man in her ear as he came for the second time that night. "Oh Debs," he groaned. "You're so lovely. Can we go again soon?"

"You've got me until breakfast," she replied. "Of course we can go again. I love early morning wood as well.... er... Gavin."

She had nearly made the error of forgetting her client's name. They could forget hers, and frequently did, but it was important that they thought they were the focus of her thoughts. Gavin rolled off her and they spooned. After a minute it looked like he might have gone to sleep so her thoughts turned back to her plans.

She thought about what she had learned about Anton's empire over the last few weeks. The good thing about being a whore was that guys in their post-coital state were easy to manipulate into talking about their work. And she'd listened carefully. Anton's empire was a pyramid with him at the top and his heavies just underneath him. There was his bodyguard Geoff, his chauffeur Craig, his Brothel Master Delroy (who she had worked out was the father of Chrissy's friend Abi) and finally the enigmatic Aleksandar, Anton's enforcer. And, like most tyrants, he had eliminated anybody from his organisation who was clever or ambitious. Anyone who might challenge him for power and control. Sometimes, she'd learned, he had literally eliminated people. The people he didn't want in his set up, but also didn't want joining a rival organisation. This showed how brutal he was, but it also meant the whole organisation was vulnerable. It was full of very loyal idiots.

She'd seen a documentary about pyramids a while back. The pile of stones was crowned with a special capstone, often made out of a better quality of stone, like granite, and covered with gold. It was a good symbol for Anton and his heavies. Remove the capstone and the rest of the pyramid is just sandstone blocks. The idiots. So, if Fenella could help, the job would be to deal with just five men. Should be possible, she thought. And if, at the same time, all records of Georgina's debt could be removed then they might be able to escape their entrapment.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was the best she could think of. Just like Gavin. Not the perfect lover, but doing his best. Thirty minutes of rest later and he was trying again. This time with her positioned arse up and head down in the pillows. But he didn't have the stamina of his youth and struggled to get hard again. Eventually he managed to push his semi-erect dick into her and from that point on things got a little better.

After Breakfast Debs staggered back to bed. Chrissy was ready for college and Georgina was resting, getting ready for a client that evening. But, before she put her head down and got some well deserved sleep, Debs took her lipstick and wrote on her bedside mirror.

Need you mum

She wasn't sure exactly how the magic worked but, apparently, mirrors were very important to witches. And, every time she'd done this in the past it had worked. Her mum had got the message. She dropped into the bed, pulled the sheets around her, and drifted off.

The dream, when it came, was soothing. A deep forest was bathed in sunshine and alive with animals that behaved as though they were in a Disney movie. Shafts of sunlight thrusting down through the canopy made a dappled pattern on the undergrowth. And Fenella was there, standing, stroking the neck of a gigantic stag. The creature looked infinitely powerful and Debs wondered if it was not an animal but, perhaps, a symbol of something greater.

"It's George, isn't it?" said Fenella. It was less of a question and more of a foregone conclusion.

"Er... yes Mum," Debs replied. "Actually it's Georgina, if we want to be precise."

Fenella looked puzzled and touched Debs on the forehead. Two fingers lightly pressed there for a minute. Debs felt a little woozy, as if her mind was being gently stirred, the way you might stir a yoghurt to check the ingredients.

"I see," said Fenella. "You've left it quite late to tell me what's going on. I get the feeling you have been enjoying some of this?"

Debs felt a little bit ashamed. Mum was right. She'd enjoyed it, at first. Having sex with Anton had been fantastic. Only later had it become a problem.

"Yes Mum," she replied. "I'm not proud of it. I need your help now though."

"Okay dear, I'll be with you soon. Meet me at the Damcaster Stone Circle."

As the dream faded Debs realised she'd normally put Mum up in the spare room. Georgina now slept there, but this worry faded as deep sleep took hold.

Chrissy glanced into the Damcaster College cafe looking for a friendly face. Perhaps, she realised, she was putting off what she'd come to do. Wanting to delay a little longer, hoping to meet someone who, by a look or a word, would convince her to abandon the idea. There was nobody and she didn't feel thirsty or hungry so there was no point in sitting on her own. She continued on to the Dean's office.

Today she had broken all her dress rules and was wearing a new outfit. Yesterday she'd asked her mum for some money, and visited town to 'get a few things'. And today she was wearing them. White, lacy almost non-existant, knickers and... a pure white one piece cat suit. Normally she wore baggy jeans and a loose top, bothered that her large cunt lips and prominent nipples would show. Today she had overcome that worry. The cat suit had a zip that went from the throat to below the navel and was skin tight. She had pulled it on, over the lacy knickers, and hitched it up until her prominent camel toe was showing. Then she'd zipped it up and experimented with the height of the zip until she was happy. The happy point turned out to be where her breasts could be viewed if someone looked at her in profile, but where there was still enough pressure from the stretchy cloth for the shape of her nipples to show. She'd toyed with black as the colour, and it was tempting given her Goth habits, but getting it in white was definitely a better idea. It was easier for a viewer to see the shape of her body, indeed it seemed to make things look even larger. And she wanted, today, for people to see what she'd got.

Miss Forbes was in the outer office, as usual. She glanced up as Chrissy entered and gave a thin smile.

"And what can we do for you, young lady?" she said, with a cynical look on her face, then gave that thin, humourless, smile again. "This is a new look for you, I believe."

"Er... yes," replied Chrissy. Suddenly her mode of dress was embarrasing. "Er... the Dean offered a grade improvement if I agreed to meet him, and some friends, at a hotel."

"Yes," said Miss Forbes. "That was the deal."

"Well I'd like to take him up on the offer," gulped Chrissy. Her throat had suddenly gone very dry. "And I'm prepared to dress like this. Is it possible you could organise it?"

"Did you want to see the Dean now? He's in his office."

Chrissy didn't. Seeing him in the flesh, so to speak, would remind her just what she was agreeing to. Allowing several middle-aged men to 'entertain' her overnight. Stuck in a small hotel room and obliged to let them do as they liked until breakfast. A bit like the situation her mum was in. Then, thinking of this, she had a warm feeling between her legs. OMG, she thought, I'm getting turneed on by this idea.

"No, I'm fine, no need to bother him. Unless I have to?" spluttered Chrissy, worried that if she went in to see the Dean she'd lose control completely.

"You don't have to," Miss Forbes replied. "I can organise it for you. We have your mobile on record. Let's see..." she looked something up on her computer. "... ends with 974? That right?"

"Yep," said Chrissy. "Thank you Miss Forbes."

"You're very welcome, Chrissy."

Wandering back toward the cafe Chrissy wondered just why she'd agreed to the gangbang. She was doing quite well with her studies, heading towards good grades anyway. Then, she admitted to herself, it was nothing to do with the grades. She was actually very aroused by the prospect of the event. Being the centre of attention, getting lots of cock. She was starting to like this new lifestyle that Anton had imposed on her. Dangerous as it was, it was also exciting.

She needed a cup of coffee. Normally she went for a medium latte in a tall glass. Today she ordered a large, which came in a bowl-like cup with two handles. She paid for the drink, and a chocolate bar, and looked around for a table. Her eyes rested on a familiar face. It was Tommy, the boy who had deflowered her a few months back in the upstairs room while the party music had pounded its heavy beat below them.

There has certainly been a lot of water under the bridge since then, she thought.

Tommy looked stunned by her costume and patted the chair next to him, looking very pleased to see her. They'd not talked since that party. Embarrassment had stopping Chrissy from meeting him. It had been a fumbling, clumsy, loss of her virginity, unplanned and without a lot of thought for the consequences.

"Hi Tommy," she greeted him. "How's things?"

"Good. Good," he replied. "Wow you look good! Fancy a movie some time?"

She could see he was trying to look at her breasts inside her costume and she leant forward slightly so that the cat suit bagged a little and she was sure he could see her nipples.

"Yeah, why not," she replied, hoping he wouldn't say a time when Anton had something planned for her. Then a very wicked thought sprang into her mind. I'll thank him for taking my virginity, she thought, and then let drop that I'm going to spend the night at a hotel with the Dean and three other tutors. The temptation to do this was very strong but she kept her mouth shut. Tommy kept staring doiwn at her camel toe, when he wasn't trying to see her breasts, and she was pleased she had him so captivated.

They chatted for another half hour and then Chrissy's phone pinged. It was Miss Forbes saying that the Dean had organised the hotel, the room, and the participants. They could do that afternoon. And a taxi would pick her up at the front of the College in half an hour.

Chrissy sent a message back. She'd expected an evening event but why not have an afternoon gangbang?

Tommy's phone pinged. He picked it up and said, "Yay! My afternoon seminar on the Brontë Sisters with Mr Thwaites has been cancelled. Something's come up. Fancy a trip to the movies this afternoon?"

Chrissy has a very good idea what part of Mr Thwaites had 'come up' to cause this cancellation. She looked at Tommy and shrugged her shoulders, "Sorry Tommy, I have to be home this afternoon. Another time perhaps?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied.

He looked suitably disappointed. Chrissy had another wicked thought. When she'd got the Dean off her back, or off her backside more likely, she'd give Tommy an experience he'd never forget. Her and her mum at the same time. Her mum was fucking anybody these days, she thought, she'd probably go for it.

Outside she leaned against a lamp post waiting for the taxi. Some of the motorists glanced at her as they passed and she lowered the zip a little further, then a little more, until her belly button showed. Luckily there were no accidents from distracted drivers and soon a taxi arrived and the driver leaned out and shouted her name. She got in feeling it was very obvious that she was off on a naughty escapade, but the reality was that many students rang for a taxi to collect them. Nobody noticed, except Tommy, who wondered why she was using a taxi when she usually walked home.

Five minutes later Chrissy was dropped off at a anonymous chain hotel on the outskirts of Damcaster. The Dean was there to open the car door and pay the driver. As they walked towards reception they were joined by Mr Phelps, the physical education tutor. He was carrying a shopping bag that clinked as numerous bottles rattled against each other.

"I got the beer," he said, grinning. "You got the girl. Fuckling hell, she looks good. It's going to be a great afternoon."

They walked into the hotel, past the receptionist who barely looked up, and along a long corridor to the last room in the row. Chrissy saw that at the end of the corridor was a side door into the car park at the back of the hotel. In the room already was Mr Thwaites, Tommy's missing English Literature tutor, who was looking very comfortable. He'd grabbed a towel and was about to step into the shower. He nodded, expressed happiness at seeing the bag of beers and disappeared into the shower cubicle. He'd not even checked out Chrissy but, presumably, recognised the name. Or perhaps he was quite happy with any girl the Dean arranged for their parties, confident she would be good.

Chrissy sat on the edge of the bed. Someone had removed the pillows which left a large rectangular platform. A plastic bowl on one bedside table held lots of condoms. On the other was something a little more worrying, a bottle of intimate lubricant with a dispenser clearly designed to help pump it into the anus. Then the Dean's phone pinged. He glanced at it, then leaped to the door, went out into the corridor, and opened the side door. Chrissy could see that you could only come in that route if you had a code, or someone inside opened it for you. Looking very guilty Mr Sullivan, the chemistry tutor, slid into the room as quickly as he could.

"Thanks, Dean," he said, breathlessly. "Maureen mustn't know about this. I would be in so much trouble."

"Not a word shall pass our lips," said Mr Thwaites, emerging from the shower with a towel around his waist. He picked up a beer bottle and removed the cap. "We all have good reason to keep quiet about these greedy girl parties."

Mr Sullivan then showered and, as he came out, Mr Phelps took his place. Because Mr Phelps was the last to shower he got the smallest towel as a result. He didn't seem to care, draping it over his lap. Chrissy was surrounded by four men, sat dressed in towels, with beers in their hands. Mr Thwaites and the Dean shared the beach seat, Mr Sullivan took the armchair, and Mr Phelps, with his tiny towel, got the swivelling office chair from under the desk. None of them approached the bed, leaving Chrissy to sit on its expanse, very alone.

"Strip and give us a show, lass," said Mr Thwaites. He was slim, around forty five and, to Chrissy's eyes, looked the most relaxed of the men in the room. Had he done this so many times he was confident he would be having a good time? His tousled hair was a light shade of brown and his hazel eyes were assessing her. Not in an unkindly way but with a degree of experience that Chrissy thought was probably only matched by Anton himself. He's going to be an interesting experience, she thought.

"Yes, frig yourself," said Mr Phelps. "I always like to see a girl do that." He was the tallest of all the men with a gym-fit chest and bulging arm muscles. His hair was cropped short and he had a tattoo on his right pectoral that showed a dagger with a snake wrapped around it. It looked a bit military. He was also the youngest of the men, maybe thirty five. He's going to give me the most energetic fuck today, Chrissy thought.

Mr Sullivan said nothing, just stared at Chrissy as if he was starving and she was a delicious roast dinner. He was overweight with a large beer belly and looked very nervously at Chrissy as if she was both desirable and intimidating at the same time. He was the oldest in the room, possibly approaching sixty, and his thinning hair looked lank and greasy. You, thought Chrissy, are the most inexperienced here, and you are going to struggle with this. Guilty thoughts about Maureen, who I presume is your wife, and poor fitness levels are going to get in the way of a good time.

It was, she thought, an interesting observation. One she wouldn't have made a few weeks ago. But here she was, looking at the men she knew were going to have sex with her, and assessing their potential. And she knew that not only could she do this gangbang, she was going to enjoy it. Even Mr Sullivan with his flabby body and rampant guilt. She was going to take them all. The frisson of excitement was addictive.

She was, as her mother had suspected, started to become as addicted to sex as her father was to gambling. Was it something in the genes? This tendency to addictive behaviour? Chrissy hadn't noticed this need for sex creeping up on her over just a few weeks, but then perhaps that is the nature of addiction. It comes upon you like a thief in the night, as the saying goes, and before you realise it, you're hooked.

The Dean smiled a wicked smile and said, quietly, "Time to earn your grades, Chrissy. I expect good things of you."

He was only slightly younger than Mr Sullivan and he also had a paunch from too much beer and too much time sitting behind his desk but Chrissy knew he was capable of getting a raging hard-on when presented with the right sort of slut. He had nearly raped her in his office and only the intervention of Miss Forbes had prevented him. And she knew, from the video he'd taken, and enjoyed watching, that he went in for a very angry style of fucking. He had things in his head that he enjoyed, but didn't necessarily tell the girl, that - if thwarted - resulted in him losing his temper. Today, she thought, I need him to be more explicit or I'm going to be bruised and battered by the end of the afternoon.

Chrissy pulled the zip of the cat suit all the way up to the top. "What sort of display would you like, gentlemen," she breathed, trying to make her voice as sluttish as possible.

Suggestions were given and she started by going to each man in turn and stroking their shoulders, chests and backs while giving them a deep French kiss. She sat on their laps, wriggled and pushed her body up against them, and found something nice to say about each man.

"I'm going to love this," she finally said. "I'd better get ready."

She pulled the zip down, very slowly, the men each watched its progress, entranced. At the very bottom the zip was far enough down so that her pubic hair showed. Then she started to shrug the cat suit off her shoulders and pull her arms out of the sleeves.

There was a knock on the door. She paused, paralyzed, had the receptionist rung the police? Was she about to be exposed as a young whore?

The Dean didn't look alarmed. He got up, and opened the door, hardly bothering to look at the newcomer and resumed his seat. Another man, wondered Chrissy? Then Miss Forbes walked in. She was wearing an ankle length coat and threw it off to reveal her costume. There wasn't much of it.

Her black lacy bra was of the peephole variety and her very small breasts poked out. Her nipples were stiff and very erect. This must be exciting for her, thought Chrissy, her nipples are stuck out like organ stops, as the phrase goes. Her legs were covered with silk stockings, held up with a suspender belt. The belt had the words Super Slut embroidered in glittery thread across the front, and Take Me Hard on the back. Apart from the high heels, that was it for costume. Miss Forbes' excited state could be seen quite clearly as her shaven cunt was already wet with anticipation.

This makes things simpler, thought Chrissy, but I hope she doesn't steal all the sex. She continued her strip then lay on the bed, spread her legs wide, and put two fingers onto her clitoris in the way that David the Photographer had taught her. Then she looked up at Miss Forbes, inviting her to join her in the bed. And, as the older woman did so, Chrissy's thoughts drifted off to think about what she would do if she had another photo-shoot with David. Not solo work, she was sure, something much more hardcore. Like a couple of men and.... ooooh!

Miss Forbes' tongue had made contact with Chrissy's pussy. Daydreams were swept away as the pleasure hit her, then Miss Forbes was twisting her body to bring her own cunt to Chrissy's lips. It was time to suck as you would wish to be sucked.

"Aaah aaah... oh so good," moaned Chrissy.

"Mmmmm... mmmm... mmmm," replied Miss Forbes.

The men watched as the two women writhed together on the bed. Hands went under towels to gently stroke cocks that were becoming increasingly erect. Then Phelps put his little towel to one side and sat massaging a rampant erection that would never have fitted under the small towel he was using. It was certainly not big enough to cover him when fully erect. From her position on the bed Chrissy could see his enormous cock and approved. There'd been a lot of speculation about the Physical Education tutor's 'equipment' amongst the girls at the College. As he energetically moved around the gymnasium the vague shape could be seen through his shorts. I wonder, thought Chrissy, how many girls he's shown that to, and did they welcome it, or run away? And, if they welcomed an encounter, how well did they cope?

And, of course, it was Phelps who eventually could resist the temptation no more. He got onto the bed, dragged Miss Forbes from her position giving cunny to Chrissy, and applied his own lips instead. The Dean was quick to follow and, without any preamble, pulled Miss Forbes into doggy pose and drove his erect cock in. She squeaked her pleasure and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Fuck me my master, fuck me hard," she said, her voice deep with lust. "Then I want to see you hammer this girl. The little slut needs to know who's boss around here... argh argh... oh oh shit!"

Grabbing her hips the Dean did as Miss Forbes asked. Conversation stopped as his cock entered her. The pleasure caused her elbows to give way and he rammed her hard into the bed. Chrissy, a few inches away, watched the woman's face moving to and fro on the bed sheets as she was roughly taken. Then it was her turn. Excited by the Dean's performance, and the stream of moans coming from Miss Forbes, Phelps covered Chrissy in missionary and brought his cock to her cunt. Chrissy helped him position himself, marvelling at the size and hardness of his cock, and then he was inside her and she groaned with delight.

Number one, she thought, and a bloody good number one at that. She wrapped her legs around Mr Phelps' waist and scratched at his back, digging her fingernails in hard. This got a curse from him, and he redoubled his efforts, which was exactly what Chrissy wanted. No lazy languid fucking this afternoon. She wanted to be taken hard, fast and long. She glanced out from under Phelps' chest. Mr Thwaites and Mr Sullivan had got up from their seats and were watching, closely, as Phelps' cock hammered into her.

She stopped scratching his back and reached out, trying to snare a cock, to bring it closer, to show she wanted all of them.

When Debs woke up in the middle of the afternoon her message, written in lipstick had gone. Or, to be more accurate, it had reshaped itself into new words. It now read...

Damcaster Stone Circle

This matched the instruction given in her dream. She dressed and grabbed a snack bar that she could eat whilst walking. It was never a good idea to keep her mother waiting.

Behind their house was a piece of ancient woodland that had escaped the developers. It contained several single stones covered with what were known as 'cup and ring marks', and a fully fledged stone circle. Officially known as the Damcaster Stone Circle it also had a more folkloric name, the Thirteen Maidens and the Knight.

The story, so it goes, was that once there were thirteen maidens who lived in the wood. Whether they were witches isn't known but the number was the required amount for a coven. And covens were the seat of evil and foul activities. Like dancing naked under the moon. Which is obviously a terribly bad thing to do because you might catch a chill. A local knight, being noble and good, decided he would visit the wood and offer the maidens a chance to renounce their evil. And, if they didn't, he was prepared to kill them all in order to save their souls. Which was clearly the right thing to do. When he got to the wood he found them dancing in a ring and, after watching them for quite a while, to make sure they were all entirely naked, he challenged them.

Here the story gets a lot less logical. The maidens refused to stop their dancing, and the knight raised his sword to strike them down. Then the Moon Goddess, in order to save the maidens, turned them all into stone, and - for good measure - turned the knight to stone too. And they have been that way even since. Thirteen smaller stones in a ring and one, larger stone, outside the circle.

As Debs walked through the wood, munching her snack, she couldn't help thinking that the Moon Goddess would have done better just changing the knight into stone, and leaving the maidens to dance. But such was the nature of folk stories; they don't always make sense. But she was grateful for the circle. It was a listed monument, so protected, and it was a quick way for her mother to visit. Something to do with ley lines.

The circle looked mysterious. Even in bright sunshine it looked mysterious. Debs walked around the Knight and gave him a pat on what would have been his buttocks before passing between two of the circle of stones to stop on the grass that grew between them. No brambles she noted, no small trees, the only thing that grew inside the circle was well-behaved grass, and the occasional toadstool in autumn. Debs was there just in time, or perhaps she had always been fated to arrive at the right time. There was a soft glow around her and her mother stepped into the circle from between two of the stones on the opposite side. She didn't step in from outside the circle, she just stepped into the circle. One moment there was nobody, and the next her mother was putting her foot onto grass. Fenella was wearing her usual dress, long, elegant, black, flared out at the hem like the one worn by Morticia Addams. And, as she stood there with an irritated expression in her face, she dusted herself down. Knocking cobwebs and fine grey dust off the dense blackness of her garment onto the green sward.

"I am going to have to have a word with those pixies at Thirsk," she muttered. "The circles there are in a dreadful state. Dust everywhere!"

"Hello Mum," said Debs.

"Hello Deborah," replied her mother. "So George has got you into another disastrous situation. I got the basics through the dream."

"Well it's not all disastrous," replied Debs, feeling a bit hard done to. "Some bits are really quite nice. But you're right. Overall... it's a mess."

"I need a cup of tea," said her mother. "Let's go home. You can tell me the details on the way."

So, as they walked to the house, Debs explained the whole problem. Her mother listened. That was Debs' earliest memory, her mother listening. She did it with an intensity most people devoted to talking, or posting their opinions online.

Later, after a lot of listening, Fenella put down her tea cup and stretched languidly. Rather like a cat. Then she grinned. It was an unashamedly wicked grin.

"I think you're right," she said. "Anton, and his inner circle of men of violence, are the ones we have to deal with. We will need an ally."

"An ally?" Debs asked. "Who? I've told you about Monty, and the hypnotherapist on the High Street that helps people give up smoking. Did you have someone else in mind."

"Not someone... something," replied her mother mysteriously. "A trip to the Holy Well, at midnight, is required."

"Oh," said Debs. "But I have to be in bed... with a man... by ten."

She was aware she'd phrased it like a child's bedtime. A set time when she should be in bed and well tucked in like the good little girl she was. Only a bit more adult.

"Then we will need to provide him with someone to keep him occupied while we slip out for an hour or two."

Mr Phelps continued to ram hard into Chrissy as she tried to reach out to the other men. Glancing sideways she could see the Dean. He had dragged Miss Forbes off the bed, returned to his chair, and she was sitting on his knee.

His cock was deep inside her and he had one hand around her waist and the other around her neck. He was no longer thrusting but watching Phelps fuck Chrissy. He sat lazily stimulating Miss Forbes clitoris with his thumb and gripping her throat tightly. Chrissy could see she was struggling to breathe but actually seemed to enjoy being sexually stimulated at the same time as choked. Weird woman, thought Chrissy, as she watched the Dean release the hold on her neck slightly to allow her to gasp and draw vital oxygen into her lungs.

Then Mr Phelps pulled out of Chrissy. He did so without warning. She was just beginning to get that special glow between her thighs that she knew would build and build until it overflowed into mind-blowing happiness.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

He just smiled and stood there with his rampant cock waving around. Chrissy couldn't understand why he had stopped.

"Oh don't stop," she wailed. "I was just getting started."

She experienced a flash of anger, her orgasm denied, her cunt empty when she wanted it full of him. "Fuck me," she demanded. "Fuck me you bastard."

But it was Mr Thwaites that got onto the bed and positioned himself between her thighs. Chrissy tried to get control of her anger at Phelps and, finally, understood that these men were making sure she would take them all. A few minutes each, at the start of the session, to reduce the chance that later in the afternoon Chrissy would refuse someone. Once each of them had 'dipped their wick', as the saying went, she could hardly object if they came back for seconds, or thirds, or more.

Mr Thwaites' cock was fully erect and he pushed into Chrissy without ceremony. It wasn't as long as Phelps' but was much fatter and she got a very nice feeling of fullness. He put his hands over her upper arms, trapping her down on the bed, and swung his hips to get a good rhythm. This feels good, she thought, I hope he goes longer than Phelps.

He didn't. Ten minutes later, as she was really getting into the swing of things and her orgasm was again beginning to grow, he started to grunt and moan. "Oh God," he cried. "She's so tight... the bitch... I'm gonna cum!"

"Pull out," ordered the Dean. "Thumb your cock!"

Mr Thwaites scrambled off the bed, leaving Chrissy with her thighs spread wide, her cunt soaked with her own juices. She could see herself in the mirror on the wardrobe door, her cunt was gaping a little with the thrusting she'd been getting from her second lover. Mr Thwaites grabbed his cock and pressed down on the head with his thumb. Chrissy could see his intense concentration and heard his sigh as he headed off his ejaculation.

"Mr Sullivan," said the Dean. "Your turn now to taste her."

"I'm not sure I'm ready," whined Mr Sullivan.

"Get on the bed and stick your cock in her," replied the Dean. "You'll be fine, once you get going."

Mr Sullivan didn't look convinced but he did as he was told. Chrissy thought he'd have difficulty getting it up for her but she was wrong. His slender cock was rigid with excitement.

"Hello Chrissy," he said, quietly. "You okay with this?"

"Oh yes Mr Sullivan," replied Chrissy, wanting him to get on with it. The rise to orgasm that Phelps had started had faded now. Mr Thwaites had stoked it again, but every moment that Sullivan hesitated took her further away from where she wanted to be.

"Maureen likes lots of kisses first," said Mr Sullivan. "Do you want some kisses Chrissy?"

The other men shared a look that said 'Who invited him?' Chrissy found she wasn't very interested in what Maureen liked. She was unaware that her mother had had to put up with a lot of similar comments from her customers. The things their wives did or, more frequently, what they refused to do.

"Whatever," Chrissy replied.

"Bloody hell," said the Dean. "Get on with it Sullivan. You're not on a date here. We're here to fuck this girl's cunt until she screams. To bang her until she's a total slut that'll take anything. Not to bring her flowers, chocolates and Valentine cards."

Mr Sullivan clumsily positioned himself over Chrissy and then tried to steer himself in. After being poked several times in the wrong place Chrissy steered the slim, but very rigid, member into her vagina. Mr Sullivan sighed. He started to thrust and the Dean, Phelps and Thwaites cheered him on. Chrissy grabbed the tutor's buttocks and helped him as he gasped and spluttered in her face, his spittle splashing on her cheeks and lips. She ran her tongue over her lips and smiled up at him and, without any warning, he was cumming deep inside her.

"Oh God, oh God," he cried. "I'm sorry Mau... er... Chrissy."

He sagged down onto Chrissy and hugged her close as his spurts filled her cunt. Chrissy could feel Sullivan's cock swelling as he ejaculated.

"My go now!" said the Dean, almost throwing Miss Forbes from his lap. "A quick appetiser before we get going on the main course."

Miss Forbes lay on the floor and the Dean stepped over her to get onto the bed. He dragged Sullivan away from Chrissy and cum splashed around as he was pulled back. Some went on Chrissy's right breast. The Dean rammed himself into her and put his hands on her tits. Feeling the cum he took his hand away, licked the sperm off with grin, and replaced his hand. He then started off at a very quick pace. He started at the speed many men reserve for the final few strokes. It was the complete opposite of Sullivan's tentative strokes, the thrusts of a man for whom misogyny was a badge of distinction. Chrissy's breath was driven from her lungs under the onslaught causing her to emit squeaks that might have been, to the casual voyeur, pleasure. But there was an equal amount of pain in the mix. This man didn't do gentle, she thought.

"Uh uh uh," she grunted. Then a cock was waving around her face.

"Go ahead Thwaites," growled the Dean. "I'm getting a good taste of this cunt, but I'm gonna have to take a break soon. You were right, it's as tight as a virgin's arse."

Chrissy turned her head to accept the cock and Thwaites prodded around her mouth. Chrissy grabbed it and proceeded to suck. There was a creak of the bed and Phelps was kneeling the other side of her head. He pawed at her hand and pulled it up to his cock. Chrissy took a firm grip, wanked it, and Phelps tilted his head back in happiness. She couldn't see Sullivan at first, he was the other side of the Dean, but she guessed he was watching the Dean's powerful thrusts hammering her. Then he moved around the bed and she could see him looking closely at her hand on Phelps' cock, and then watching the Dean as he rammed into her. There was a look of admiration on his face.

Miss Forbes was sitting on the floor, ignored now the men were really getting started with Chrissy.

At last, within Chrissy, the rise to orgasm started again and, this time, with all the men's attention on her, it was a swifter road to the moment of joy. She couldn't coordinate her limbs, so powerful was the cumming, and she kicked and writhed under them. Phelps's hand job was abandoned as she gripped the sheets. Thwaites got extra stimulation he wasn't expecting as she gurgled and choked on his cock. And the Dean was taken over the edge by the rippling muscles in her cunt.

"She's milking me," he angrily growled. "The bitch is making me cum."

His ejaculation went deep into her and her ears were assaulted by incoherent swear words. Then the Dean pulled out and Phelps took his place. Chrissy, when she came down from ecstasy, found herself being pounded by him. There had been no pause. Phelps had smoothly moved into place and Chrissy knew this must be something they had practised many times. She lay and took the cock. Then Thwaites came in her mouth and she was coughing and spluttering as his cum spilled over her lips. She heard Thwaites give a happy chuckle.

"Bloody good," he laughed. "I should have come to these things years ago. You say you have lots of girls like this, Dean?"

"Damcaster College has an excellent pass rate," laughed the Dean. "Miss Forbes is very good at identifying girls who want to improve their grades. And, sometimes, we get sent girls by Anton. An Anton girl, we've learned, will do anything."

He delivered this speech whilst pushing his cock, still slimy with cum, into Chrissy's open mouth. He thrust a few times, then withdrew and turned her head so Phelps could push his cock in. Back and forth she was turned between them, taking a few thrusts at a time, while Thwaites moved to her cunt to replace Phelps. He was not as practised as the Dean and Phelps in the speed in which he replaced the previous cock, but he still gave Chrissy little pause to recover.

After ten more minutes Thwaites withdrew and Chrissy was subjected to another round of the Dean, Phelps and Thwaites in her cunt while Mr Sullivan forlornly watched the men working. Miss Forbes was now standing behind him stroking his chest, caressing his paunch and teasing his cock.

Chrissy got the three men in quick succession, about ten minutes of each, and she calculated that perhaps just over an hour had gone by. Each of her three lovers had their own style. The Dean was aggressive, Phelps was athletic, and Thwaites stuffed her full in a very competent manner with long, slow strokes. They had given up on blow jobs, the two men who were not thrusting held Chrissy's wrists and ankles so she was spread wide on the bed. And they each ensured, by pacing themselves, that they did not cum.

They are only human, thought Chrissy, they only have a limited number of ejaculations and, once their balls are empty, they might have difficulty getting it up again for hours. She was beginning to feel battered by the experience. Her labial lips were aching and her clitoris was feeling painfully erect. She'd watched a television drama recently, one of those pathology based thrillers, and remembered the female pathologist explaining that the deceased girl had been gang raped. The evidence being the bruising around her vagina. I'm gonna have that tomorrow, Chrissy thought.

It was a little disconcerting thinking of the dead girl on the slab but she was sure the Dean and his friends had no intentions of killing her. Anton would be annoyed if his latest teen tart was permanently harmed. I suppose, she thought, they are holding me down because this is the point where a girl might start to regret 'improving her grades'. Might want to leave.

Another round of Dean, Phelps and Thwaites followed. Chrissy had to admire the way they had boosted their personal stamina by sharing the work. Each man fucking until they felt the cum threatening to rise, and then passing her on to the next. And the thrusting was still more pleasant than painful at this stage. She'd cum another two times and the Dean was right. As she accepted each man, repeatedly, her willingness to do more extreme things was being stoked. She started to fantasise about double penetration and even triple. Was that to come later this afternoon? Would she end up with all three of them in her simultaneously? And, if so, what would happen to Mr Sullivan who was left out of the loop, too hesitant to demand his turn in her cunt?

She'd been fucked by more men at the Casino event, but that had - somehow - been very anonymous. None of the fourty odd men in that room had actually interacted with her. This was different, much more personal, much more exciting. Made even more so by the fact that she might meet any of these tutors in the corridor at Damcaster College afterwards. They would exchange meaningful glances. They would know each other's bodies and what they had done together.

The only problem was the way she was stuck on her back here.

It was a bit boring, she admitted, not being able to change position. Lying on her back with her arms and legs spread wide, the current lover bent over her, was also very passive. She was convinced that Anton had plans for her in the future that involved her being more active. If I'm not to be just a fuck doll here I need to start taking control, she thought, and I'll start with the weak link, the pathetic Mr Sullivan.

"Oh Mr Sullivan," she gasped between thrusts. "You're missing out on my teen pussy."

She saw his cock rise, and it wasn't from the attention Miss Forbes was paying him.

"You men," she looked up at her three abusers. "You need to let go of me and let me help Mr Sullivan."

The Dean looked unconvinced but Phelps and Thwaites seemed quite happy with the idea.

"I'd pay good money," said Phelps. "To see her take old Sullivan."

"Yeh," replied Thwaites. "Give the girl a chance to show she's a real slut."

Hands were removed from Chrissy and she knelt up and crooked her finger at Mr Sullivan. The others took a step back from the bed. And, at the same moment, Miss Forbes gave Sullivan a gentle push. It was like the old joke at the army barracks. The Sergeant asks for a volunteer and every man in the squad immediately takes one pace backwards, except for the rookie.

Chrissy caught Sullivan's hand and pulled him to the bed. He clumsily got on looking very worried to suddenly be the centre of attention and therefore required to perform. Chrissy got him to get on his back and he lay like a poker. Legs straight, arms by his side.

"Open your legs Mr Sullivan," said Chrissy, stroking the insides of his thighs.

He complied and she lay between his thighs and took his cock in her mouth. Then she vigorously fellated him whilst tickling his scrotum. And, while she was doing this, Miss Forbes was sent out to get more beer. Chrissy's warm mouth had the desired effect on Sullivan, his cock stiffened, she could mount him. She swung her legs over him, fed his cock into her cunt, and dropped down until he was fully inside her. He groaned.

"Oh Chrissy," he gasped. "That's so good. Oh shit!"

Crouched over him, with her hands on his chest, Chrissy found that her clit was rubbing against the under side of his beer belly. This will be nice, she thought, and she started to lift and drop herself on his cock.

It was nice, as she had predicted, and Mr Sullivan seemed to enjoy it too. He gurgled and grabbed at the bedsheets. There's something nicer he can grab, thought Chrissy, but I'd best get on with it 'cos he's not going to last long. She reached out and took his arms, pulling them towards herself.

"Grab my titties, Mr Sullivan," she demanded.

He reached up and she held his hands and pulled them to her breasts.

"Crush my titties," she cried. "Thumb my nipples."

He tried to comply but the sensations from her energetic bouncing was making it hard to concentrate. He began to mutter something about his wife.

"Put me under you," demanded Chrissy. "And stop muttering. If you want to say something about your wife to me then say it out loud."

Sullivan tensed and then, in an act of uncharacteristic strength, rolled until Chrissy was underneath him. She felt squashed. The other men used their strength to hold themselves clear of her body, but Sullivan just let his weight rest, almost dead weight on her body. Then he lifted his hips and started to ram his cock in, thrusting and swearing at the same time.

"Fucking Maureen," he growled angrily, as if he was - indeed - fucking his wife. "Bloody woman!"

Then it all came out, punctuated by angry thrusts into Chrissy. She lay, a little shocked by what she'd released, as a stream of invective filled the room.

"Maureen, you're a frigid bitch! You're a fucking prude! No!... You're a non-fucking prude. You've had a headache since about ten minutes after we got married. I'm the only man in history to be told by his wife she's got a headache on the honeymoon. And when I insist... when I can't stand it any more... it has to be in the dark, on your back, with no talking. You won't give me a blow job, you won't even give me a hand job. You refuse to let me go down on you. And yet, you frigid hag, if I just look at another woman there's hell to pay for weeks. And when I say that a man is handsome you accuse me of being gay. And I soon found out you think all blacks should go back to their own country. That you think they're beasts. I had plans for interesting sex with you. I had plans for us having a wild life, with interesting women, and handsome men, whatever their colour. And you implied that was fine with you. But no sex before marriage. Oh no... you had to be pure for that trip down the aisle. I was a fool. I didn't get any sex before our marriage and there's no bloody sex afterwards either!! Well I've got the last laugh. I'm fucking a girl young enough to be our granddaughter. And I'm enjoying it! And I'm going to fuck as many women as I can get my hands on from now on. And you can rot in hell for all I care!!!!"

Even the Dean and Phelps who, Chrissy thought, must have had quite a number of other men at these events seemed shocked with this outburst. Given that they were prepared to give Thwaites and Sullivan a trial there must have been many other men used to make up the four over the years. A lot of them, probably, were married but not getting enough sex. But Chrissy doubted that many of them were so angry about it.

Sullivan made a dozen more hard thrusts into Chrissy then, suddenly, he sprang off the bed and declared he wanted the toilet. "Leave the little slut," he growled at the other men. "I've still got more in me, and you guys owe me my share of time in her."

When the door closed Chrissy feigned exhaustion. "Can I have a drink?" she asked.

A beer bottle was provided by Phelps and then the three men retreated into a corner. Chrissy strained to overhear their conversation whilst trying to look exhausted and disinterested.

"Fucking hell," someone whispered. "Didn't think he had that in him."

"Sounds like the worm's turned," whispered someone else.

"Gives me an idea," whispered someone else. "Phelps, do you think you can seduce his Maureen at the next staff party? I know she comes to them, but she usually is to be found in a corner, reading a book and loking bored."

"Rely on me," came back the reply. "I'll switch on the charm and give her what she really wants."

"Good, then, once you've woken up her cunt, you get her to come here for a dirty weekend. We'll set up a hidden camera and have Sullivan watching by a remote link, he'll enjoy that. You'll fuck her a few times, then blindfold her and tell her you've got something really special for her. We'll add men into the room, one at a time. And once she's had each of us, and got big Mazi Mboma balls deep in her, we'll whip off the blindfold and see how racist and frigid she really is."

"Bloody good idea," whispered someone. "I'm up for that!"

"Shush, shush... he's coming back."

The toilet door opened again and Sullivan emerged. He ignored the cluster of men in the corner and got clumsily back onto the bed. Chrissy put her beer bottle onto the bedside table. As per instructions she'd not even closed her legs. Sullivan was able to carry on with gusto.

The Dean wandered over to watch. "Sullivan," he said, conspiratorially. "I've a proposition for you. About Maureen. A way to get your own back. But don't stop... it'll do later."

Sullivan didn't look as if he had any intention of stopping but he did pause. "Get up Chrissy," he commanded. "Doggy position. Now Dean tell me what you wanted to say about Maureen."

Chrissy adopted the pose and Sullivan slammed into her hard, then slapped her on the right buttock. He put his left hand onto her shoulder and commenced to do five thrusts to each slap. Like some sort of demented CPR. Chrissy added a red raw buttock to all the other brusing she'd be suffering from tomorrow.

The Dean explained their plan and Sullivan listened. In the room mirror Chrissy could see he was getting more and more red in the face, then she was cumming on his cock and when she came round he was half way through his reply.

"... and I'd love to see the expression on her face when she realises she's got Mazi Mboma's cock in her oh so precious cunt, and he's not going to stop until she accepts she's a black cock whore."

"So, you're up for the plan?" checked the Dean.

Sullivan pushed Chrissy flat onto the mattress and dug his fingers into her buttocks as he hammered away, "At one time I dreamed of watching Maureen in a threesome, but worried about being cuckolded. Now I'd welcome it if I can watch you guys making her into a slut."

He slammed his slender cock into Chrissy as if the world was about to end and she was the last fuck he'd ever have. But Chrissy was now wanting more. This slender cock, wielded by a clumsy man, even if it was quite energetic, was just not enough for her now.

"Dean," she cried. "Your little slut wants more. You said you wanted 'to fuck this girl's cunt until she screams. To bang her until she's a total slut that'll take anything'. Well I'm up for anything. Take my arse. I want you to take my arse."

"Get off her Sullivan," growled the Dean. "She needs a real man for this."

Sullivan, reluctantly got off the bed. Chrissy got on hands and knees and passed the lubricant to the Dean. He didn't immediately apply it, to her surprise, but knelt behind her and started to lick around her anus. Round and round he licked as Chrissy squirmed with the interesting sensation, then she squeaked as he pushed his tongue inside her. The other men drew close to watch as the Dean stuck his thumb inside Chrissy and used his other hand to rapidly work her clitoris. Chrissy found herself gasping and twitching with the stimulation and then she was cumming, strongly.

"Hu, hu, hu," she gasped.

Out came the Dean's thumb, in went the lubricant, followed quickly by his cock. And Chrissy was no longer an anal virgin. The feeling was strange, not the same as in her vagina, but no less enjoyable. The first thrust was followed by the Dean keeping still for a minute. Phelps and Thwaites leaned in to grab a teen breast each and do what Sullivan had not managed, tweak her nipples hard. Chrissy knew the moment would soon come when the Dean started to move, but there was a little time to get some other pleasure. She encouraged Thwaites to kneel in front of her and present his cock. She opened her mouth and took his length, and not a moment too soon. The Dean started to thrust and her whole body was thrown backwards and forwards with the power of his strokes. It drove her deeper onto Thwaite's cock and, as she started to scream, he provided a muffling effect that reduced the volume to a more reasonable level. Sullivan watched with a grim smile on his face. He was again shut out of the action but Phelps took hold of his cock, applied some lube, and gently wanked it. Sullivan let him.

The Dean was relentless and drove Chrissy to another orgasm. She tried to count how many she'd had but it was hopeless. Not only had she lost count the vigorous buggering was making it hard to think clearly. But part of her, the wicked part that was really enjoying pushing the limits, was still nudging her to wilder things. Owen and his son had both put their cocks in her cunt. It can't be any harder, she thought, to have one man in her cunt and one in her anus. She took the opportunity, one time when the Dean was withdrawing, and pulled Thwaite's cock from her mouth.

"More," she cried. "I've still got a hole unfilled."

The men did not hesitate. Phelps lay on his back next to Chrissy and the Dean and Thwaites lifted her over him. Within thirty seconds she was impaled on his cock. He pulled her body down on top of him and Thwaites reinserted his cock into her mouth. The Dean ramming his cock back into her gaping anus. She was, as the saying goes, airtight.

The next half hour had Chrissy triple penetrated, first on her front over Phelps, and then lying on her back on top of him. Phelps had taken over the buggering duty and, while Chrissy stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room, the Dean rammed her cunt and grinned down at her.

"You are a good slut," he snarled. "Your A stars are well earned. And, if you want to do this again with some different men, I'll pay you a good rate."

Eventually they stopped, exhausted, and staggered away. Chrissy lay, breathing heavily, plotting her next move. Sullivan was seated now, resigned to just watching and wanking, but he staggered up when Chrissy lay back crooked her finger at him, spread her legs, and rubbed at her red raw pussy in invitation.

She licked her lips. "Come here Mr Sullivan," she said. "I want more of you."

He was on the bed very quickly and had covered her in an instant. In went his slender cock and a groan of satisfaction echoed in Chrissy's ear. He's going to fuck me hard, she thought. But Chrissy had a plan to take the heat off herself. She'd had enough for today. It was time to escape. Her idea was based on something Sullivan had said during his invective. She reached out to the bedside table and found the lubricant. Then she ran one hand down Sullivan's spine, causing him to groan with delight, and found the crack between his buttocks. The next bit needed good timing. On went the oil and in went her finger. As his hips bucked up and down her finger moved in his anus. There was no need to put any real effort in, it was more a case of just hanging on. She added a second and a third finger and a cry of delight came from Sullivan. Chrissy then stared hard at Phelps. Would he take the bait?

Her actions were based on what she'd observed and surprised even her. She had never rated herself as an observer of human behaviour. I bet I could become one of those criminal profilers, she thought, I could work with that female pathologist. What she had seen was Sullivan watching the others gang fucking her, but as much as he watched her, he seemed fascinated by the bodies of her abusers. Particularly Phelps. Then, when he had his rant, she'd caught the undertones of a bisexual man. And Phelps, well she'd seen him touch other men's cocks, briefly, lightly, more often with his body than his hands - but distinct touches. And Sullivan had accepted a brief wanking from him.

"Come on Mr Phelps," she breathed, trying to sound sexy, "Give me a hand here. Mr Sullivan has a hole he needs filling... and he's gonna love what you've got."

Phelps, for a moment, looked surprised and reluctant. Perhaps there was an unspoken rule at the Dean's events that they confine their efforts to the girl at the centre of attention. Perhaps he knew that this might reveal to his colleagues his full sexuality. Then he stepped forward and, as Chrissy removed her fingers, he pushed his cock into Sullivan's anus.

Now all three were linked. Phelps in Sullivan, and Sullivan in Chrissy. There's probably a name for this, thought Chrissy, but I have no idea what it is. Sullivan's face had transformed from gritted teeth and scowling gaze to open slack mouth and eyes lifted to heaven. He turned his head to look back at Phelps and then at Chrissy as if he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

"Oh god Phelps," he spluttered. "Oh you bitch Chrissy. What are we doing?"

It was more of a rhetorical question than anything else, thought Chrissy. It's bloody obvious what we're doing. Now it relies on Mr Phelps to really get into the action.

He did.

As the door opened and Miss Forbes returned with more beer and a carrier bag of snacks Phelps started to use his athletic thrusting technique on Sullivan. The Dean and Thwaites sat astonished but fascinated as they watched him bugger his colleague. His thrusting was so powerful that Chrissy could feel it through Sullivan's cock that was driven deep inside her. On top of her Sullivan was gasping and groaning with pleasure. He was beginning to sweat with the effort and it dripped onto her skin, making him slip and slide. He seemed to have lost all ability to hold himself up so she was pressed hard into the bed. Then she heard the Dean's powerful voice.

"Get that coat off Miss Forbes... I want to try that."

"Bottom or top?" asked Thwaites.

"I'll be Top, man," replied the Dean. "Of course. You get on Miss Forbes and give her a damn good fucking and, when the moment's right, I'll take you."

There was a thump on the bed as Miss Forbes joined Chrissy and then the teen was subjected to an earful of gasps, groans and swear words as Thwaites fucked the administrator very aggressively. The Dean stood over them and muttered abuse at them both then trickled lubricant down the length of his massively erect cock and took up position behind Thwaites. The English teacher almost screamed as the cock went in and then Chrissy was surrounded by grunts and moans as six people fucked on the bed.

Chrissy's mind wandered. When they designed these hotel beds, she thought, did they anticipate more than one person using them? Did they know that their rooms would be used for orgies or a gangbang? And how did they test them? Was it a case of the boss of the bed company going along the line of staff and selecting six average looking people? Then saying something like, "Okay you lot... I want you fucking each other on that bed for two hours. And Smith, here's a clipboard. You can watch and take notes. Any signs of collapse and we'll need a redesign."

The bed groaned, almost as loudly as Miss Forbes, and Chrissy had another orgasm as Sullivan's cock was hammered into her by Phelps. Then she was abandoned as the two men stood up. They moved over to the armless chair and Phelps sat down. Sullivan stood over him, facing away, and then impaled himself on the gym teacher's cock. Phelps reached around and grasped Sullivan's cock as the older man heaved himself up and down, a look of sheer delight on his face.

Chrissy got off the bed and the trio next to her took advantage of the extra space to fall onto their sides, still linked together by cock. They caressed and fucked, and fucked and caressed, exploring the sensations. Thwaites seemed particularly happy to be able to both fuck Miss Forbes and be fucked at the same time. Chrissy checked the time. She'd done her contracted hours. She took herself off to have a shower.

When she got out, towelling herself down, things had moved on. Now it was the Dean who was fucking Miss Forbes and Thwaites was slowly pushing his fat cock into the Dean's welcoming anus. Phelps was bent over the chair while Sullivan hammered at him. Chrissy quietly got dressed, white knickers on, cat suit on, zip up to the top. Trainers on. Phone into the back pocket of the cat suit. Glancing back, at the door, she saw Miss Forbes looking at her, reaching out in desperation from under the Dean and Thwaites, as if to say 'help me... they're going to be so angry to find you gone... and me the only cunt in the room...'

Chrissy didn't care. For all she knew they'd got another girl for the evening. Miss Forbes would be fine. And, outside, her hunch proved true. The taxi that had brought her was depositing another girl from Damcaster College, this time she looked like she was in the year under Chrissy. She was a redhead with an innocent expression, big breasts and a large bum and Chrissy heard the taxi driver telling her the Deans room number.

As she watched the girl walk into the hotel Chrissy got in the back of the taxi. The taxi driver had clearly been given instructions to take Chrissy home as she hardly had to say a word, and didn't need to pay.

Pager Update : Fenella has arrived to help Debs deal with Anton. Chrissy has upped her grades to A star, and turned her gangbang into a bisexual orgy. : Update Ends