J. Benford - The Family Haven 1

"Nice to see you, honey," he greeted her as if she had called on him of her own accord, and not that she had been ordered to attend. "Have a drink, let me see, if I remember correctly you're a gin girl eh?"

She nodded. He closed the door behind her, and went to the cocktail bar that was built into a corner of the room. He poured the drink, a long gin with a slice of sliced lemon and a dash of bitters. He handed the glass to her. His other hand roamed over her ass as he stood close to her. She sipped at the potent drink and tried not to show her displeasure of the way his hand had moved down to caress over her rounded firm ass-cheeks. He nodded towards the very comfortable and expensive sofa. Alice moved across to it and settled herself down. He brought a footstool and couched down in front of her.

"You did really good work with that John Graham character, he said softly. "I was very pleased with you. I've got your little reward in an envelope over there." He nodded towards an envelope that stood on the table propped up by a cup. Alice guessed her payment in the envelope might be one hundred dollars. Might be more… she hoped it would be as much as two hundred, for after all, the Graham man had lost all his winnings and more besides. She deserved to be treated well.

She winced. Marko was pinching her knees. His hands slid slowly upwards under her skirt. She knew that, as usual, she had to please this man or she would not get that money envelope at all. His strong hands slid up to the tops of her stockings, paused for a moment or so to grip at the stronger texture of the welts, and then the hot palms slid on to her bare flesh. She saw his face was crimson, he always went like that when he felt her legs. She knew she had the best pair of legs of any of his girls in the club, she knew exactly how much he enjoyed touching her thighs, knew too it was a type of fetish with him to fondle her legs slowly and most thoroughly.

He moved his hands down from under her skirt, and gripped her slim ankles and lifted her legs well apart. Then he placed her high-heeled shoes firmly on the corners of the foot stool and with slow deliberate care he raised her skirt higher and higher until all her delicious upper thighs were revealed. Then the strangeness of his nature began to show itself. His face was even a deeper shade of crimson, his breath was fast an uneven as he indulged in his fetish… his hands roamed slowly and carefully all over her nyloned legs. She had known men before that loved the feel of a woman's legs through nylon hose but never had she known a man who got carried away so completely by this comparatively mild emotion, this minor erotica. Slavishly he fondled her knees, her calves, her ankles, and slowly back upwards again to the tops of her nylons. She looked down at his kneeling form. It seemed so grotesquely obscene that a man should get such queer pleasure from feeling a woman's legs as he was doing. She wanted to slap him or better still, kick him – kick him with those high-heeled shoes he adored -С and yet she knew she dared not… now he was beginning to whine, from his throat came a strange low moaning whine, he was bending his horrid body forward, getting his flabby face to her legs, kissing her with the same slavish thoroughness that his hands had shown when fondling her.

His lips followed the path over her nylon stockings that his fingers had traced… she wanted to scream, she wanted to push him away from that unsteady crouching position between her legs… his hot lips were tracing from her ankles up to her rounded knees, from the knees up to the tops of her stockings. Despite her disgust and her shame, she felt a little excited when his hot mouth traveled from the welts of her hoses on to her bare thigh flesh. She too was breathing more heavily than usual as she nibbled at her soft pliable white flesh. She saw him rubbing that glistening bald pate of his against her smooth nylons, saw and felt him caressing her skin with his cheeks. Once or twice he kissed her more intimately, pushing her knees further apart so that he could push his large head right up to the tops of her thighs and kiss her very lightly and almost lovingly on the nylon strip of black silkiness of her panties where they covered her cunt-lips.

When he pulled himself to his feet and then helped her to get up to stand close to him, he was panting like a man who had just completed a mile race. He was sweating and shaking. "Come on baby," he mumbled to her. "Come on, you know what to do, honey."

She knew. She wanted to vomit, but that was not what he meant. She knew what he meant well enough. Her hands shook as she started to unfasten the clips of her dress and draw down the zipper. She saw those dark close-together eyes of Marko staring at her as she prepared to show off her body to him. She wore her black pointed brassiere, the sheerest of panties, the attractive girdle and those delightfully sensual nylon stockings and the ultra high-heeled shoes.

She slowly got her lush tits out of the bra and arched her body so that he could stare at her breasts as they became upthrust. He went across the room and stood as far from her as he could. "Do your stuff," he called out to her. She knew this game. He beckoned her and she had slowly and as provocatively as she knew how, to stroll across to him.

All the way he watched the sway of her hips, the rolling lolling of her tits, the lovely long shapely legs in the nylons. When she got near him he quickly moved across to the far wall and then beckoned her again.

For ten or more trips he made her slowly and sensually walk across the room, and then at last when he had his fill of this little game, he made her stand in front of him while he recommenced to feel and fondle her legs. He told her to adjust her bra again, and when her large full knockers were encased in the bra, as he directed, he tried to suck avidly on her nipple through the satiny fabric of the bra cup itself.

He loved to make her nipples arouse; treatment of this sort made them really hard and firm of themselves, and by keeping them tightly encased pressure on the peaks was increased, and gave her more wanton sensations.

At last he suddenly shrugged off his gaudy dress-robe. His grotesquely hairy body was revealed to her. It was not the first time she had seen it, but every time seemed worse than before. He was a horrid old man, more like a hairy beast than a man. Naked save for his slippers, he took her by the hand and led her into the bathroom that adjoined his private room. For some strange reason he was always able and always wanted to pass water while she was with him. The drill was always the same. She had to hold his prick and mutter flattering phrases about it while he urinated. It was always a heavy flush of water. Indeed, it always reminded her of a horse in the street letting the piss rush from its heavy dong. The penis of old Marko was like a stallion's; it even throbbed while she held it for him to empty himself, and after she had washed his prick and careful dried it on a soft towel, they went, arm in arm, back into the bedroom of his private apartment.

He lay on his bed, naked and erect as she slowly took off the rest of her scanties. She had to tease and tantalize him all she could as she rolled her nylons down, while she slid her panties to her feet, while she eased the elastic girdle down from her waist.

On the bed with him she knew what she had to do. Kneeling astraddle him, her ass towards his face so that he could look at her bush-hair and cunt when she leaned forward, and at the same time feel her legs with his hot hands, she lowered her face to his rampant cock. Just for a moment she hesitated, sickened again at the thought of being so completely this horrid man's sex slave, and then she opened her lips and took the foul tasting smelling cockhead into her saliva filled mouth. She was glad he always allowed her to wash his prick before she had to perform with him like this. Once she had got over the initial shock, she had learned that it was not so bad once she got the wet hot spongy cock-knob well between her lips. He never touched her cunt when she was with him, always he fondled her legs, her thighs, and her bent knees, but never did he let his hands under to her more intimate cunthole.