The Hollows Ch. 02

The fact that I had made a sale, albeit a small one I have to admit, satisfied my Sales Manager for a short while only. But that was the boiler room nature of the company I worked for. The pressure to achieve more sales helped to suppress my indignation at the fact that I had been effectively raped during my visit to The Hollows.
I was confused right enough. Part of me said that I should have gone to the police, or at least reported the happening to my line manager - who should then have involved the police. But I was reluctant to do that, mainly because I wished to avoid any attendant publicity. My report would almost certainly find itself as news on social media and I was in no hurry to be seen in the role of victim. Being the object of sympathy from strangers was certainly not my bag. And then again, would I be believed? I have read that many female rape victims opt not to report the crime committed against them for many of the same reasons.
The fact that I had been compensated with, what to me was a fairly substantial amount of money, certainly did much to further stay my hand. It certainly made a considerable difference to my feelings of financial wellbeing at a time when I was effectively skint.
Also. it could be argued, that I had accepted payment for services rendered, just like any other sex worker, and therefore there was no case to answer.
For all these reasons I could have probably easily have put the incidence to the back of my mind and allowed it to fade. But there was a joker in the pack; one that I found increasing difficulty to suppress.
Strange as it may seem, I just could not escape the fact that I had derived more than a little pleasure from certain aspects of my having been so assaulted. Experiencing rape had never been part of any sexual fantasies I had enjoyed up to that part on my life. And certainly not of me being the victim. No sir, I was strictly a heterosexual guy, and within that parameter all my sexual fantasies had been directed thus far.
Yet, however much I tried to put the memory of that fateful encounter out of my mind I revisited the image of Andy's penis slowly entering my male cunt and fucking me. And that was more than enough to have my penis reacting excitedly. Clearly there was some unfinished business in the making.
Since the incident at The Hollows I had driven umpteen times past the house, with the flimsiest of excuses for doing so. If I had seen one of the other players in my recent drama, would I have approached them?
What was needed was for me to summon up my courage and go ring the doorbell once again. Why was I so nervous about doing so? I was a salesman wasn't I, and with the expected gift of the gab no less?
I eventually did work up the courage, although my hands were shaking alarmingly as I awaited for an answer to my summons.
True to form the door creaked open and the Colonel's wife stood before me just as she had done that time before. She peered at me, her eyes consulting her memory bank. "Oh, it's the nice Mr. Dirk isn't it? You arranged some free insurance for the Colonel and me?"
"Yes, it is," I agreed, thankful that she had a favourable memory of me. "I am trying to contact the people that were here when I visited you that day?"
"Ah, they said you might call back. You and some others. I will take your telephone number and someone will ring you to make an appointment for a meeting."
"Will that be here, at The Hollows?"
"Very probably, they usually are," said the woman agreeably.
"Will I have to wait long," I asked, surprised by my apparent eagerness.
"I shouldn't think so, they usually send someone over pretty quickly."
"Over from where?" I asked.
Mrs. Dorothy Greystone-Miles backed out of sight for a matter of seconds and came back into view holding a pen and a pad of paper. "Write your home address and telephone number and I am sure you will hear from the people soon."
She was a typical well-born English lady of the fast disappearing old school type. I was cool about giving out my mobile number, but not so much my address. Nevertheless with some misgivings, I complied.
Driving away from The Hollows I chastised myself for being such a fool. Kemer travesti I had half a mind to turn back and retrieve my details from the old lady and to try find the determination to get my life back on an even keel. I needed a new job and to put all my concentration into finding one. Much of he windfall I had been given from the pretty boy at The Hollows had been subsumed by my outstanding debts.
I did not turn back, and I did not have to wallow for long in my new-found misery either. That very evening I heard a knock on the front door of my flat. I thought it would be either Juliette or Pamela as, unsurprisingly, both women had the hots for me.
Instead I received a shock when I opened the door. "Andy." The guy whom had raped me was standing there in the doorway, larger than life. I just stood there gawping at him, lost for words.
He judged the situation to be safe enough for him to gently but firmly push past me and stand facing me in the middle of my living room. I shut the front door rather out of habit than in a gesture of inviting in the newcomer. I could hardly believe that a message from my groin was telling me that my prick was starting to swell. Damn, in a few more seconds it would be noticeable. Did I want that message to be perceived by my visitor?
Too late, Andy's eyes glanced downwards. "Ah, do I perceive that my visit is a welcome one, Dirk? You took your time contacting us. We'd almost written you off, but all's well that ends well."
"Hang on a minute," I stammered. "I think you've got the wrong end of the stick here." My mouth was almost completely dry.
"Oh yeh. You came to the house today to search for us. Don't make out it was because you wanted to flog us another insurance policy or whatever. We know that you were fired and now are unemployed. You heard me tell Rich that you'd make a good cocksucker. And that's just for starters."
"I haven't been fired," I protested automatically, although my attention was obviously elsewhere.
Andy moved forward so as he was standing just inches from me. I could feel the heat radiating from him and I smelled again the fragrant body wash he had worn on that fateful day. I felt a pang of anxiety that he was advancing close enough to for him to observe my taught and straining prick.
"Why don't you kiss me?" His lips just a couple of inches from mine as he spoke. "You want to don't you?"
I hadn't thought about us kissing. But now he had mentioned it I felt desire mounting. "I'm gay," he purred, "I love kissing young men like you - and sharing my tongue."
With some reluctance I pulled back, "But I'm not gay and I don't want to share your tongue Andy," I managed to bleat.
"See, you've remembered my name. How could you ever forget the man who robbed you of your anal cherry? You will remember me forever - the first man to fuck your arse Dirk. And before long you'll be begging me to fuck you again and again, Dirk. You mark my words."
"You're mad," was all I could think to retort. He was so close I was inhaling his breath and I could taste him of sorts.
"Dirk is not your real name is it? It's not the name your mammy gave you, is it David? I shall call you Davina from now on."
"You're mad," I repeated completely lost for words. I was shocked that he knew so much about me. Suddenly I felt afraid and very vulnerable. Silly as it sounds, being stripped of my false name seemed to dissipate the persona I had created round it.
With my mind exercising on that conundrum Andy leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. I did not squeal, jerk backwards and slap his face, or punch him in the stomach like a guy might. I merely moved my face back and we found, and held, eye contact.
"Come on Davina, just give-in to me. You know you want to. Remember last time? You did not want me to stop. Remember how disappointed you were when I flooded your male cunt with my sperm. You wanted more. I could tell. You'd have easily settled for wanking yourself off had Rich and I not been there. You did not want to admit you were the faggot you really are."
Still holding my gaze he dropped his hands, popped the top button of my jeans and slid the zipper down. The garment hit Kemer travestileri the floor cuffing my ankles. Andy's hand was straight into my groin. "Wait a minute, what have we here?" He arched back for his eyes to see. "Girlie panties. And pretty pink ones too." He laughed out loud. "You little faggot, you. Rich had it right, didn't he? Wait 'til I tell him." Andy pulled at the panties in order to release my totally rampant penis. "Fucking hell, you're gagging for it aren't you?"
I could do no other than agree that he was absolutely correct. My penis was so pumped full of blood it had become painful and I was close to the stage of tossing myself off right in from of my tormentor -without caring what he made of it.
As it so happened, I did not need to. Out of compassion, I would like to believe, Andy grabbed my prick and rendered the few jerks that were needed to have me explode. And explode I most certainly did. Neither of us seemed to care a jot as to where my spunk spurted to.
As relaxation spread through my body with that feeling of well being winning overall, Andy just had to make a point. He scooped up a fair wodge of my warm sperm and popped his fingers in my mouth, requiring me to taste and swallow. It was him demonstrating his superiority no doubt - and it worked.
He left me with the promise that he would be back next evening and that I should not make any alternative plans. To further exacerbate the turmoil in my mind he kissed me tenderly on the lips before taking his departure.
Strange things happened to my mind and body in that intervening twenty-two hours. Being forced to be subservient to Andy had a significant effect on me - especially so because much of the action, despite the fact I had demonstrated some resistance, was pleasurable - well, more than just pleasurable.
I fell asleep in my armchair whilst watching television only to be rudely awoken sometime after 10pm by my doorbell. Could that be Andy returning, or even his mate Rich? I struggled between excitement, trepidation and lust, all in the short transfer from my armchair to the front door. When I opened the door my face must have mirrored "oh, its only Pamela."
She was wearing an almost see-through white shirt that did little to spoil the view of a brilliant white skimpy bra she sported underneath. Add a very full, scarlet skirt and I had little doubt there would be stockings and and suspender belt as well. Pam wasn't often on the hunt for sex, but when she was she left nobody in the dark as to her intentions. She was old enough to be my mother but, hey, who's going to turn down a good shag?
I actually groaned. After the visit from Andy I felt mentally and physically exhausted and all I really wanted to do was enjoy recuperative sleep in my favourite armchair. I tried to fend Pam off verbally at first, and then physically when words failed. In the melee, which she thought was just foreplay and me playing hard to get, she took a grip on my trousers with both hands and triumphantly pulled them down.
Not only did she get an eyeful of my girlie panties, not only did she see that my penis was registering disinterest, but those same panties were smeared with drying semen. I sought to explain, but my brain was still asleep and all I really achieved was to look whimpish.
"Fuck you Dirk," was all that Pamela said as she made for the door - apart from adding, "fucking pansy".
I surprised myself by not really caring.
I slept in late the next morning and remained abed even later through processing in my mind all that had happened between me and Andy. My penis appointed itself to be the unelected bellwether as to how I should perceive the situation that I had found myself in.
I almost missed an interview I had arranged that afternoon for a job s a salesman for importer of toys and games. My heart was not part of the process and the interviewer was quick to perceive that - another failure to be chalked up against me. Even as I was being grilled images of my sucking Andy's prick kept popping into my mind.
That evening I waited with trepidation for my doorbell to ring. How many times did I glance at the clock? Just as I had convinced myself it wasn't Travesti kemer going to happen it did just that. My heart seemed to miss a beat or two. I tried to stroll over to the door with false nonchalance.
I gave a start. I found myself staring into the deep brown eyes of the excessively hairy Rich, no less. I glanced beyond him - no sign of Andy though.
Rich noticed and reacted. "Just me tonight faggot."
I stepped back and aside - no thought to prevent his entry. I could have barred his entry, but I didn't think to. It was as simple as that. Rich immediately made himself at home, flinging off his overcoat revealing just a shirt and slacks. "You took your time Davina," he said with a strange smile. We were beginning to think we needed to send out a rescue party."
"A rescue party?" I repeated, unsure that I had heard right.
I slowly moved closer to him almost mesmerised by the situation I was in. As soon as I got in range he whipped a strong arm round my waist and pulled me in. His lips found mine and his tongue slithered into my mouth. It was fat and long and intruded urgently like a penis on a mission. A shock at first I soon came to find the intrusion a bit of a thrill. It woke my penis up anyhow.
He dropped both of his hands and in one movement had my trousers off my hip and in a pile round my ankles. Leaving one hand in situ to cup my balls and squeeze my expanding prick, he brought the other up and round my shoulders, pressing me forward, making siege of my mouth.
I was getting caught up in the eroticism of it all. and I found myself stating to unbutton his shirt. He withdrew his body enough from mine to allow me to do so and, when I had pulled the wings of his shirt aside, I was presented with the hairiest black chest I had ever seen. It was almost as if the man was from an alien planet or from the densest tropical rainforest. And yet I suddenly felt the urge to rub my bare white chest up against his. I pulled away and in one action pulled off my jumper and T-shirt over my head. Then I clasped him to me, our chests locked together.
Rich awarded me with another French kiss then withdrew his tongue from my mouth just long enough to whisper, "nice one faggot".
Next we found ourselves rubbing our genitals together; mine already naked and his through his jeans. I was impossibly hard by this time, totally out of control. It as me that undid his belt, pushed down his pants and jeans, and then did the same to my panties. He let out a burst of hot breath that went straight into my lungs, our mouths being again locked together.
Next I felt the urge to sink to my knees and take his prick into my mouth. Rich was quick to realise my intentions and he pulled out his tongue and released his hand from cupping my balls. I sunk slowly downwards nuzzling my nose into the thick carpet of hairs that stretched from his beard right to his balls. His prick was waiting for me, big, fat, throbbing and leaking precum. I pulled his foreskin right back and enjoyed a shiver of pleasure as I licked dry the throbbing purple head. Doing that was another first for me and I felt a surge of excitement at being so debauched.
I started bobbing in earnest with his prick colliding with the back of my throat, a hair's breadth from making me keck. My one hand I was using to masturbate myself whilst the other I had between his legs and my fingers tracing up and down the crack in his arse and teasing his hairy arsehole. Fucking hell - was that something.
My wanking hand achieved goal first and I felt the great, enjoyable liberation of spraying my spunk carelessly, with abandon. I paused my ministrations to Rich's genitalia whilst I savoured the eroticism of my spraying spunk, and all the accompanying heightened sensations. Rich allowed me that, but when the thrill started to fade he forced my head down to the floor. "Lick it all up pansy," he ordered. "You dirty little cunt."
Looking into his eyes I determined that he meant his order and I fell to my knees and started licking up my cooling spunk. Yet, in no time it seemed to me, Rich's muscular arm pulled me up and positioned my mouth next to the purple head of his penis. "open your fucking mouth," he said quickly, as he jerked himself off aggressively. I did, just in time. Great wads of his spunk assailed me as I desperately tried to swallow quickly enough to keep up with the flow. My stomach thrilled to the experience, as did my brain. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?
TO BE CONTINUED