‘I must confess, I didn’t.’
‘You should try it. Next time you’re out together. I made her do it on a train once. The carriage was almost empty, but there were a couple of guys further down the aisle. She humped that seat until she couldn’t hold back. God, it turned me on. Had to have her at the back of the station car park as soon as we got off. Do you remember that day, Lucy?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That train seat was a bit like this stool – that velvety material. Or you can have her stuff something in her knickers so she’s got that clitoral friction whenever she moves. She never lasts long. Anyway, we’ll come back to Lucy and her easy orgasms. Hold your tits up high for us, Luce. Yeah. Squeeze them. Nice and tight. Stroke the nipples. Did you bring any nipple clamps, Richard?’
‘No.’
‘I did. I’m saving them for later though. What I like is when Lucy humps a chair and strokes her nipples at the same time. I love that. I make her look me in the eye the whole time. It’s especially enjoyable in a public place, and I guess your presence takes us halfway there. Lean forward, Lucy, and ride that stool.’
Lucy shut her eyes for a moment. Rob knew that this was one of the commands she found hardest to obey. Because he knew it, it was one of the kinks he explored with her most often. He loved her discomfiture and her embarrassment, which seemed to get worse every time instead of better.
She proved herself his willing slut time after time, but his appetite for this kind of display had only grown. One day, she thought, he was going to get her arrested.
But not today, because only Richard’s eyes rested on them, and they were burning with curious lust.
Rob was right about the upholstery of the stool. It was very reminiscent of the stiff fuzz in that railway carriage. It prickled against her bare thighs and now she did not even have the protection of knickers. When she leant forward, the pile felt thick and dry against her clit.
She was so wet, though, that it scarcely mattered. She pushed out her bottom, bent low and cupped her breasts in the way Rob always liked.
It was excruciating to know that Richard was watching her from the side of the room. This was an aspect of her sexuality he knew nothing about: her love of being humiliated in semi-public settings. She felt guilty, as if she had been concealing an important truth from him, and now it was all coming out.
But perhaps he wasn’t into this kind of thing, anyway. After all, there were things she did with Richard that Rob never suggested. Richard was much more into tying her up and using sex toys than Rob was, for example.
Rob was all about mind control and unbroken eye contact. And this was what he was doing now. He pierced her skin with his penetrating gaze, making her hold it as she began to shift about on the stool.
‘Nice and slow to start,’ he said approvingly. ‘That’s it. Stretch those thigh and arse muscles. Move those hips. Ride that pony, Lucy, ride it. Don’t stop. How does it feel on your clit?’
‘Rough.’
‘Bad?’
‘No. Not bad.’
She began to jerk, squeezing her gluteal muscles, working hard to get the level of friction she needed. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. But now that little itch had taken fire at the core of her, and was starting its inexorable spread outwards. She would need to buck vigorously over the stool cushion to get where she wanted to be, but that was too much. Too slutty, too embarrassing, too blatant. If it was possible to preserve any vestiges of decorum whilst shagging a footstool in front of two men, she would try to do it.
‘She’s getting there,’ said Rob. ‘See her, hard at it. Work it, girl. Ride.’
‘Perhaps she needs the whip,’ suggested Richard. ‘Do you think she’s making enough effort?’
Damn, it sounded as if Richard was really enjoying the spectacle. And his suggestions were not welcome.
‘That’s a great idea,’ said Rob, ‘and I would. But I like to hold her eye contact. She hates it, you see. She hates to know that she can’t hide from me. It makes it so much more satisfying.’
‘Good point. But for the future, since there are two of us—’
‘Yes, for the future. Ride it, Lucy. Get that bum out, get down low.’
The stool was beginning to jolt around on its legs. Vaguely, Lucy hoped she wasn’t going to break it.
The pressure was building and it told in her expression: she knew because Rob’s smile was getting broader and wickeder by the second, his eyes shining bright.
She had to let go of her breasts and grip the front of the stool so as not to tip over.
‘Sorry, sir,’ she grunted as they began to swing in rhythm with her lunges. Her clit, fat and juicy as Rob had said it was, mashed into the velvet, the sensation of it getting stronger and stronger until she felt it taking over the whole of her lower body.
She bumped up and down, wailing out her orgasm. Rob’s hand shot out and held her by the chin, stopping her from withdrawing eye contact at the crucial moment. She always tried, always failed. She had to come with his keen eye upon her, his crooked smile of triumph twisted across his face.