Queenie turned to look at back across the un-mown grass towards her house, she stared at the peeling paint and the cracked guttering and the twisted TV aerial and smiled as she realised she could see right in to the front room where Miranda had so recently been masturbating with a broom handle, Miranda was out of sight now lying on the floor, bur perhaps she could sit on the couch where she could be seen again, like the whores in the shop windows in Amsterdam.
She turned to watch as a dirty Toyata Mini cab drew up and the driver reluctantly emerged to open the rear door for an elderly gentlmaen of military bearing to emerge.
"Major Fforbes, right on time." Queenie greeted him.
"Bit over-dressed old girl eh what" the Major replied.
Queenie looked at the Major his once ramrod straight back now sadly bowed, his grey mackintosh belonged to a different era as did his deerstalker hat while his suit bore testimony to the tailors art of half a century previously.
"I have a treat for you Major." Queenie promised.
"You're always a treat my dear." he replied gallantly, "Lead on."
"Oi, money." The driver whined.
"Account dear boy, put it on the account, and come for me in shall we say forty five minutes?"
"Well I want paying then mind." the driver conceded and reluctantly drove away.
"Bloody people," the Major sighed, "Wasn't like this back in India."
"No Major," Queenie consoled him, "But come along in."
Queenie opened the Lounge door and ushered the Major inside, he stopped abruptly as he saw Miranda.
"She's only thirteen," she lied, "Tania's friend, I thought of you."
"What," the Major spluttered, "Oh,"
"She had a little overdose," Queenie suggested, "so she probably won't remember anything, what do you say?"
"Is she a?" the Major asked leaving the word unsaid.
"No, she's had all sorts," Queenie confirmed, "filthy little cow, but you like the young ones don't you, and she's yours for an extra fifty over our usual, if that's all right."
Major Fforbes gazed at Miranda's lovliness through his tired old cataract filled eyes and in his mind he saw the young teenager Queenie described, he reached for his wallet, "D'you think she'll suck me when she wakes up?"
"She's all ready for you now Major, all lovely and wet and willing." Queenie expained.
"She can still suck the old love muscle," the Major continued, "Not as rampant these days eh what."
But Queenie had already drawn the curtains and as the Major hung his mackintosh on the back of the Lounge door , Queenie pulled Miranda onto the leather couch and slid a finger into Miranda's still slippery vagina to emerge glistening for the Major's approval.
Queenie walked to the door and flicked a switch beside the light switch and the unseen cameras began their recordings.
The Major fumbled with his fly buttons, and his braces before sliding his old but expensively tailored trousers to his knees, Queenie stifled a laugh as his dirty soiled long john long legged underpants followed and he moved closer to Miranda to offer his three inches of floppy partially excited manhood to Miranda's lips, Queenie cringed at the filthy almost back discolouration of the Major's testes, was it disease or merely lack of personal hygiene, she wondered, the smell suggested the latter, but she was glad that today at least she would forgo the evil taste of his disgusting member.
The Major leaned forward, his left arm supporting his weight against the high back of the couch, his right hand holding and aiming his three inches of circumcised wrinkled pinkness with its bulbous purple head until it caressed Miranda's scarlet lips and as the smell assailed her she yawned involuntarily allowing the Major to thrust his rapidly hardening member further into her sweet mouth until she coughed, exciting him further,
"I think you had better put it." Queenie said but before she could say in her cunt, the Major's face contorted as the big vein at the side of his neck throbbed and his breathing became ragged so much so that Queenie thought he was having a heart attack, or a stroke or seizure, "Please god not a heart attack." she muttered.
"I'm" the Major, muttered, "Going to cum in my pants I fear," he said as he lost awareness of the situation, as pleasure overwhelmed him.
"Yes dear, it's all right," Queenie reassured him "You cum if you want to love, I'll clean you up."
But it was unnecessary, his pink wrinkled filthy manhood jerked and a thick bead of grey slime oozed out of the dark orifice at the tip of the wrinkled bulbous purple head, flopping over Miranda's tongue and lower teeth just as Miranda turned her head away leaving a trail of slime across her cheek which oozed and slid down over her chin before dripping and sliding down.
to join the further weaker spurts of slime which hit Miranda's neck and ran down between her breasts.
"I've cum in my trousers Queenie, I'm sorry." the Major said as he flopped onto the couch beside Miranda.
"Never mind love," Queenie reassured him as she wiped his shrunken penis with a tea towel, "As long as you enjoyed yourself." she folded the towel and asked "Cup of Tea."
Miranda stirred and Queenie reached to clean some of the ejaculate from Miranda's mouth.
"Let me," the Major said.
"You keep that away from her cunt, I know you you old goat." Queenie replied, "She's too young to go on the pill."
He smiled, "I can dream" he said.
"And go to prison, no you pull your trousers up and come through to the kitchen."
Miranda rested on the couch, sleepily snoozing, dreaming dreams that she had been kidnapped and was being ravished in a Arabian harem,
She slept through the Minicab driver collecting the Major and didn't even realise Queenie's pimp Ron had come to check her over.
Ron was in his forties, reasonably fit, a bit too short for his own liking at five foot seven, with his skin sunburned and weather beaten he would almost have passed for an Asian except for his light brown hair. Ron was the local window cleaner, it was a good cover for his drug dealing, and he was wearing his heavy boots and his Denim work suit over a clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled up as he stood looking down at Miranda as she dozed on the leather couch naked except for her corset and stockings.
Ron had been Queenie's pimp for ten years and more, she was twenty something when they got together, she had three kids, no husband, no partner, no money, drug debts and a fourth kid on the way, Ron had this punter who liked them young and pregnant, and so the deal was done and Ron took 25%, he never hit her, sent her to rehab when her habit spiralled and got too expensive and had her breasts enlarged, three times so far. He never had turf wars with other pimps, never got pulled by the police, charged reasonable margins, provided good consistent quality gear, paid off the right people and won himself many friends.
"You're on your own this time Queenie," Ron announced, "You could go down for this, you still got that rubber mask?"
"You filthy bugger." Queenie complained.
"Might as well make a Video," Ron suggested, "Shall we get Mikey around."
"Her ass looks tight as a bloody airlock." Queenie reminded him.
"Look, order a Pizza and shut up." Ron ordered.
Queenie made the call, and she and Ron went to the red bedroom where Ron undressed, "I'll use the harness and take her from behind while she sucks Stevie off, Ron suggested.
"What do I do?" asked Queenie.
"Camera, hand held camera." Ron suggested, "Do it in the lounge, no you wear the rubber with the whip," Queenie pointed to the suit on the wall, Ron continued, "yeah long plastic boots, that rubber cat suit with the holes for your tits and the crotch cut out, that one," he pointed " and you tell the bitch what to do, tell her to ignore me fucking her and concentrate on giving head.
The bedroom seemed too small suddenly as Queenie peeled her housecoat and sensible skirt off and Ron tried to remember how the bondage harness was supposed to fit, and the realisation that the last wearer had been at least six inches taller, shoulder straps, breast straps, waist straps, crotch straps all had to be adjusted, "Want the boots" asked Queenie.
The elasticated one size fits all leather effect play boots remained on the wall.
"They make me look a prat." Ron complained.
"You look a right prat already," Queenie laughed, "come on make a proper job of it." she handed Ron the boots and watched as he pulled them on.
Queenie dusted herself liberally with Talcum powder before wriggling into the cat suit, getting her breasts through the holes was the worst part because her implant scars rubbed if it was not put on exactly right.
"What about the tail" joked Ron.
"Fuck off, I ain't having that up my arse," Queenie insisted. "Let me get my coat on and get downstairs."
The street lights were coming on as Mike Bates propped his Honda against the lamp post and took the boxed Pizza from the large top box, before striding down the path to number three.
Queenie opened the door in her housecoat, "Have you got a few minutes Mike?" she asked.
"Filming again?" he asked.
"Yeah, five hundred flat or a percentage," Ron's voice boomed."You want in?"
"Yeah, cash, please." Mike agreed, "Like now is it?"
"Yes dear, that's why Ron looks such a prat." Mike stepped inside to allow Queenie to shut the door and Mike looked up the stairs to see Ron, with the rubber mask on and a bathrobe which failed to hide his erection or the ridiculous leather effect boots.
"You got that fucking silly harness on again mate." Mike chortled winding Ron up.
"Lets call it two fifty shall we?" Ron replied.
"No offence mate!" Mike chuckled, "Where's the lucky lady."
"Through here love," Queenie answered, "She's a bit tired, but what we want is her sucking your cock while Ron shafts her from behind and I order her about."
Mike walked into the lounge, "Fucking hell, she looks rough." he exclaimed, "I reckon Ron's got bigger tits."
"I warned you." Ron said as he threw his bathrobe aside to reveal his hairy chest, the brass buckles and black leather of the harness contrasting with his lightly suntanned chest with its mass of curly dark brown hair, and down below his Penis pulled through the slot in the the crotch strap which was pulled tight into his arse crack somehow emphasised his raw maleness.
"I reckon you fancy me." Mike said as he grinned at Ron.
"Fucking shut up and get your dick out," Ron said sternly.
"Yes dear sit on the couch, Queenie suggested, "and Miranda can suck you as Ron comes up behind, I'll handcuff him and guide him in, is that clear?"
Heads nodded and Queenie playfully roused Miranda from her slumbers with a swat with the cords of her whip across Miranda's creamy white inner thigh.
"Ahhgghh," Miranda squealed, "Where am I?" she asked, then as realisation dawned she remembered but her chest and cheek felt wet and sticky, she tried to stretch but her wrists were still taped to her thighs.
"We're making a film and you're going to be the star, Randa, what do you think of that?" Queenie asked.
"Oh god no way." said Miranda as she blushed furiously as she saw Mike and Ron staring at her crotch,
"Mr Plonk is very ugly so he wears a mask," Queenie explained, "now get so you can suck Mike while Ron gets in position." Queenie clicked the camera switch and picked up the hand held camera, as Miranda frantically looked from Ron to Mike to Queenie as she tried to plan her escape but it was impossible.
Miranda stared at Ron in his harness, even in her terror she could barely stop herself laughing out loud but clearly it excited him from the gentle upward curve of his erection.
"Please no" Miranda pleaded but Ron ignored the script and pausing only to take a condom from Queenie and roll it over his thickening erection he grasped Miranda's slender upper arms with his rough calloused hands and easily lifted Miranda bodily to a standing position before pushing her heck forward with his left hand while pulling her waist back with his right arm to force her to bend from the waist.
Rons rough fingers rasped across Miranda's tiny breasts, his hot breath rasped on her neck, ad to her horror she found her nipples tingling with anticipation, visibly swelling, then she felt fingers at the lips of her sex, slippery fingers smeared with lubricant, dainty feminine finger, exploring, exciting, driving her wild.
"You like it don't you?" Queenie asked.
"NNngg" Miranda replied, "Please stop, I don't"
"All right dear, I understand," Queenie confirmed, "you don't want my fingers, you want Ron's cock."
For gods sake keep to the script." Ron muttered but as he felt Queenie's experienced fingers guiding him into Miranda's soft hot wetness he decided the script was a waste of time and gripped and kneaded Miranda's tiny breasts firmly as he forced himself deep inside her, her enveloping folds spreading easily to welcome his entry, Miranda gasped and gasped again as his second thrust took him deeper and the next deeper still but awkwardly, she didn't like it, the curve in his manhood pressed in the wrong places, it was too fat and, she realised not long enough, his balls slapped her crotch with every thrust now but then Miranda saw Mike advancing.
Mike stood beside the couch, his trousers discarded and his long straight penis straining, why couldn't he fuck me instead?" Miranda wondered instead of recoiling the way she would only this very morning.
"Suck it." Mike ordered, tentatively, slapping it against her cheek for effect.
"Open up dear." Queenie ordered,
"No!" Miranda shouted but Queenies fingers were ready and as Miranda's mouth widened Queenie roughly forced Miranda's jaw open revealing her little creamy coloured teeth and her long furry pink tongue.
"Uggh." Miranda exclaimed, "look at that disgusting tongue.
"I gowwa colg" Miranda said explaining she had a cold.
"Never mind," said Queenie, "Mike will fuck it better, you suck him nicely dear."
"No," Miranda exclaimed. but Queenie held her jaw firm as Mike tentatively eased the tip of his beautifully streamlined appendage between Miranda's scarlet lips, Miranda braced her self for the stench and taste of piss but to her shock it merely tasted of saltiness and fresh sweat
The tip of his penis weighed down her tongue as it eased gently inwards, and then she panicked, her breathing became laboured and Queenie jerked her head back and shoulders down to straighten her windpipe.
"Make a mouth cunt for him Miranda," Queenie requested, "let him fuck your mouth properly, you'll like it, both ends fucked together, it's lovely.
Miranda knew she was dying, Mike's prick was choking her, her world was going black a.s she started to pass out but she knew she had to survive, she gasped for breath sucking air greedily and sucking Mike's penis as she did so.
"Fucking hell can this girl suck," Mike exclaimed, "where did you get her from, is she a pro?
"Keep the rhythm going mate," Ron reminded him, "This is hard work." Ron humped energetically, the sweat pouring from his brow dripping onto her buttocks and dripping down her arse crack onto his rapidly pistoning penis sliding easily in a sea of Miranda's juices and lube which leaked and dribbled down her inner thighs without the addition of any sweat as lubricant.
Mike held Miranda's cheeks firmly as she she sucked or was it gasped for breath, the sensations raced around his shaft as it slithered in and out of her throat excited beyond belief by her tongue the constrictions of her throat and the hot and cold draft of her breath passing over his shaft like the gossamer wings of an angel.
"This is great,she must be real experienced." Mike exclaimed, as he tried to shove his testicles in Miranda's mouth along with his shaft.
"Shut up, we're going to have to bloody dub this," Ron complained, "Just shag the tart all right."
Mike suddenly misunderstood Ron's words.
"Fuck, she's a fucking pro," Mike exclaimed, "She might have aids, she's sucking my prick without a rubber."
Mike changed from trying to stuff himself as far down Miranda's throat as possible to trying to pull out but the movement was making Miranda choke, and as she gasped she sucked Mike even harder.
"Don't be daft, you can't get Aids from a blow job," Ron explained but Mike was determined, pushing Miranda's face away from him, pushing her against Ron as Ron continued to thrust back at her.
"Fuck I'm cumming" Mike wailed as he lost balance and fell back away from Miranda, as his hot white semen gushed forth in repeated spurts, shooting inches into her mouth then as she closed her mouth splashing her forehead, right up into her sparkling chestnut brown hair. splashing her eyelid then as the force diminished rolling off her chin and splashing onto her breasts before the final emission dribbled across her thighs.
"Fucking Tart." Mike swore as he slapped Miranda across the cheek.
"She works for the Council." Queenie told him, "Strictly amateur you bloody fool."
Miranda fell forward against the backrest of the couch burying her face into the leather cushions, smearing them with Mike's cum.
"Oh my god." she wailed.
"Stop it you'll tear me bollocks off" Ron cried, "Oh fuck."
Ron convulsed helplessly as he orgasmed, pushing Miranda ever further into the leather as she tried to support her own weight and Rons with her neck muscles until finally Ron dragged himself off her.
"Fuck the lot of you," Mike swore as he dragged his trousers back on and grabbed his crash helmet, even forgetting to take the cash for the Pizza as he rushed back to his Moped.
Miranda rolled onto the floor, gasping yet relieved to be alive, her hair a sticky mess, her breasts and face covered with creamy slime to which the dust and filth of Queenie's couch and carpets was now sticking.
The tears flowed, tears of humiliation and tears of frustration mingled with the creamy cum and trickled down Miranda's cheeks.
"Turn the Camera off Queenie," Ron ordered, "I reckon Mike fucked that up good and proper, I'll get changed and make a move."
Miranda heard Rons footsteps as he climbed the stairs, the rustling noises of him undressing and the sounds of him dressing and returning to the Lounge, "Get rid of her." he ordered.
"Yes Ron," Queenie agreed, "Any ideas.?"
"Whiskey, half a bottle then dump her in a shop doorway on the Mansfield, let the Vice squad take her in." Ron suggested, "Anyway I got to get going."
"I want to die" Miranda moaned,
"Not yet dear," Queenie suggested, "I have plans for you."