‘You can say no,’ he reminds me in a whisper.
‘I’m not falling at the first fence. What are we doing?’
He raises his voice to answer. ‘Sophie, I want you to stand up and remove your coat.’
I stand up. The tops of my boots tickle my naked thighs, reminding me of the pale expanse stretching from there to the too-high hem of the rubber dress.
I shrug off the coat and hand it to Lloyd, turning away from my audience as I do so and maintaining my huddled half-crouching stance, trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible.
‘Up straight and face our examiners,’ he orders briskly. This means I have to break my eye contact with Lloyd. I really, really don’t want to do this. But I do it.
‘Oh, we’re not examiners,’ coos O. ‘Don’t make the situation more formal than it needs to be. You do look lovely, dear – gorgeous rubber. Call us by our names, Lloyd, if you’re comfortable with that.’
‘OK,’ says Lloyd from behind me.
I look at a distant spot on the wall behind O and Mal, blurring out their rapacious smiles and lustful eyes. My shoulders are back, thrusting out my tightly confined breasts. The bottom of the dress barely skims my pussy; it would only take the fractional raise of a leg to expose everything.
‘Put your hands on your head, Sophie.’
The movement lifts the dress ever so slightly, just enough to give my new friends a glimpse of shaved lip. The tension created by the latex is unbearably sexy, as is the knowledge of my inescapable exposure. I feel the wetness, the unruly pulse of desire. Lloyd was right. This challenge is going to be easy after all.
‘Now turn around slowly.’
I perform a slow rotation, trying hard not to stick my bum out too far, though I’m sorely tempted. With one hundred and eighty degrees completed and Lloyd’s face back in my register – an evilly intent, highly focused face – he commands me to stop.
‘Bend over,’ he says.
I won’t look at him. I won’t make a face at him. I mustn’t give him failure ammunition.
So I lower my eyes to the ground and carefully let my upper torso follow suit. I feel every upward millimetre of my hem’s progress over the curve of my bottom until it sits nice and square in the middle of my outthrust cheeks, showing everything beneath.
‘I’d value your opinion of her arse,’ says Lloyd politely.
‘Wonderful shape,’ purrs O. ‘So full and round.’
‘The most spankable I’ve seen in a long time,’ is Mal’s verdict. ‘Though it’s a bit pale for my taste. I prefer them redder.’
‘That can be arranged.’ Lloyd!
‘Of course, it’s your call.’ Thanks, Mal.
O has a question now. ‘What kind of things do you like to do to that delicious bottom, Lloyd? How much use does it get?’
‘Oh, plenty. Obviously, like Mal, I like to see it turn red. I like the heat, especially if I put my cock inside afterwards.’
‘Ah yeah, there’s no beating the feeling, is there?’ says Mal yearningly.
Never mind red arses, I’m pretty sure my face is that shade of which they so approve. Just as well it’s beyond their view. In the meantime, my cunt is dripping. Surely they’ll notice soon? Oh God. I clench and unclench the muscles, praying that this will help me keep my secret.
‘Fucking a good hot red arse, you mean?’ says Lloyd, still in this insane polite chitchat kind of tone. ‘Absolutely. My favourite.’
‘Do you use butt plugs?’
‘Oh yes, she loves those. For pleasure and for discipline. She wore one behind the reception desk all morning once after one particular episode of naughtiness.’
Oh, I remember that. Remember the squirming on the chair, the growing pool of liquid lust in my knickers, the perma-blush on my face as I greeted each guest. He’s such a glorious pervert. They really are going to see the shining evidence of my arousal very soon.
‘I must visit your hotel,’ remarks O. ‘Dr Lassiter recommends it very highly.’