Butter Wouldn't Melt (24 page)

‘Excellent!' he said after a moment. ‘In fact, I think I'll have you in the nude today. Come along.'

I was grimacing as I took off my shoes and stockings to leave myself completely naked. Things were not going to plan at all.

‘Try touching your toes,' he suggested, ‘with your back to me, of course.'

It hardly needed saying. I turned around once more and bent at the waist to touch my fingertips to my toes, showing off every detail of my rear view as I did it. He gave a chuckle of appreciation and settled back as I began to repeat the exercise.

‘Very sweet,' he said after what seemed like forever. ‘Do you know, Pippa, you even have a pretty bottom hole, and a very pretty fanny. Now then, a few handstands and it's time for your little treat.'

‘Handstands?' I queried.

‘I suppose you should be in a skirt with no knickers underneath, for best effect,' he replied, ‘but I'm sure you'll look just as pretty doing it in the nude.'

I made a face, and with considerable difficulty managed to pull off a handstand in the gap between
the stacks, showing my open pussy as I did it. He already had me sweaty and covered in dust, but I was made to do it five more times before he finally held his hand up in satisfaction.

‘Good girl,' he said, ‘and you're quite right, it is a trifle close.'

Finally he was going to take his jacket off, only I was stark naked and running with sweat, in no condition to go and get a key cut, while once he'd masturbated me our chance would be lost for the day. There was nothing for it but to find an excuse to get dressed again, text Clive, and pray Mr Prufrock didn't put his jacket back on. The excuse at least was easy.

‘I bet you'd like to continue your cock-sucking lesson, wouldn't you?' he was saying as he put his jacket on the peg.

‘Yes,' I said, ‘but I really need to pee first.'

‘That needn't worry us too much, I don't think,' he said.

‘I think it ought to,' I said, squeezing my thighs together, ‘or I think I'm going to wet myself.'

‘Not on the floor, young lady,' he said sternly. ‘Here, come and do it down the drain, and I'll watch. That will be exciting.'

I made to object, but he had already begun to waddle off between the stacks, and I could only follow. At the far end a dusty brick arch opened into a gloomy area beneath grubby squares of glass set into the street above. I'd never bothered to look in there before, but sure enough, there was a drain at the centre. I made a face as I looked down at it, wondering if I should claim to want to do something more, but quickly deciding that he was quite capable of wanting to watch that as well.

‘Don't be shy,' he said, standing back to ensure himself a prime view of pussy as I urinated, ‘it's only natural.'

‘Maybe,' I tried, ‘but I'm not sure I can do it while you're watching.'

‘Try and see,' he suggested.

I drew a heavy sigh, telling myself that he'd seen me nude, stuck his finger up my bum and masturbated me to orgasm, so peeing in front of him shouldn't have been that terrible. It was still deeply humiliating as I squatted down over the drain, as low as I dared so it wouldn't squirt all over the floor, squeezed, and let go. I wasn't really urgent at all, and only a little squirt came out at first, but it quickly built to a trickle, splashing on the iron grate and wetting my bum cheeks and thighs, so that I was forced to lift myself up a little more.

Mr Prufrock watched the whole display with deep interest, and gave a satisfied click of his tongue as I wiggled to shake the last few drops free from my pussy lips. I stood up, blushing a little and trying to think of another excuse, only to start back in surprise. He had begun to peel down his zip.

‘I must say,' he said, ‘your little show has had a considerable effect on me.'

He had taken out his cock, which was as fully erect as I'd seen it, even when he'd been in my mouth. I nodded, wondering if it was the smell of me, or whether he was just hopelessly perverse. In any case, I had the answer.

‘Maybe you'd like me to do it again?' I suggested. ‘You could bring a chair over, to watch properly, and I'm sure I could do a lot more if I had some water to drink. I'll even do it backwards, if you like, so you can see my bum, or I could suck you while I did it? Maybe you could even come?'

At that he nodded, and I knew I'd won.

‘I'll just need to buy some water,' I told him, ‘but I can go to the shop under the bridge and I'll be back in no time.'

‘Yes, why not?' he said. ‘You're a very thoughtful girl, Pippa.'

I smiled and kissed his forehead, then scampered quickly back to where I'd left my clothes, which gave me a chance to text Clive. Mr Prufrock was soon back, but I was still doing up my blouse when the knock came on the door, which gave me the perfect opportunity to nip behind one of the stacks so I wasn't seen, and then retrieve the key once he'd returned it to his jacket pocket.

As I ran up the stairs I felt elated. Complicated or not, my plan was working, and although there were plenty more things that could go wrong I felt full of confidence. I raced for the key-cutting booth in Tower Hill station, only to find that they had no blanks for the ancient key. The locksmith was sure he could do it anyway, and I was left hopping from foot to foot in anxiety while he rummaged for bits of metal, ground and cut, finally producing an adequate copy of the key.

I ran back as fast as I could, realised I'd forgotten the water, dashed to the shop under the bridge and once more to Montague, Montague, Todmorden and Montague, only to discover I needn't have hurried at all. Clive and Mr Prufrock were still busy deep in the archives, huddled over a box of ancient, dusty files just a few feet from the drain I'd peed down. I returned the original key to Mr Prufrock's jacket, hid the water so I wouldn't have to admit that particular dirty detail to Clive, and successfully passed on the copy.

Everything was ready, and was sure to work just so long as I could get my timing right. I'd have to drink my water, then wait until I was urgent, which would give Clive plenty of time, and as Mr Prufrock and I would be at the back of the stacks it would be easy
for him to unlock the door without being detected. He'd then have to find an excuse for one of the other Blockhouse boys to come down to the archives, and I'd have to take my time over Mr Prufrock's cock, but that was easy. I was so excited that even the hideous embarrassment of being caught sucking off a dirty old man didn't seem completely unbearable.

Clive pretended to abandon his search as hopeless and it was my turn once more. I'd bought two litres of water, which I pulled out from behind his desk as Mr Prufrock locked the door. As I began to drink he was already rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

‘Oh you dirty, dirty little thing!' he said. ‘Knickers off ready then . . . or no, on second thoughts, take everything else off and leave your knickers on. I think it would be rather fun to watch you pee in them.'

I nearly choked on the water I was drinking.

‘But Mr Prufrock, they're the only pair I've got with me.'

‘You've gone home bare under your skirt before now,' he pointed out.

‘I know, but . . .'

‘Come, come, Pippa. What did we say about young ladies and little favours?'

‘Yes, but wetting my knickers! Please, Mr Prufrock . . .'

He wagged a finger at me.

‘Come along, Pippa, if you want your little treat.'

I threw my hands up in the air. He genuinely seemed to think that he was doing me a favour by masturbating me and not the other way around; either that or he was a brilliant actor and assumed that both of us were playing our roles in a perverted game. If the latter, then I was playing a deeper game than he suspected, and the important thing was to bring it to a successful conclusion.

‘OK,' I said, ‘if it will help you, I'll do it in my knickers.'

‘Good girl,' he breathed. ‘Now drink up, and off with your clothes.'

I took another swallow of water, then began to strip, trying not to look too sulky as I peeled off my clothes. It was a hot day and I'd been running around like a mad woman, so I already needed a shower. Once I'd wet myself it would be worse, because the pee was sure to soak in up over my bottom and pussy.

‘Back to work,' he said as I hung my clothes up, ‘and keep drinking.'

He handed me the water bottle, which I accepted, taking the occasional swig as I went back to my filing. I felt hot and sticky, particularly down my panties, because I was soaking wet and as ready for penetration as I'd ever been. Even the thought of his fingers loitering over my bottom and easing into my holes was exciting, but that was the one thing I wasn't likely to get, not once we'd been caught.

I began to wonder what would happen afterwards, and the consequences if it became public knowledge. It was very likely I'd end up having to explain everything to Mr Montague in order to prevent Mr Prufrock getting the sack, or worse. I'd certainly have to admit I'd been willing, or the police might be called in, which would be disastrous.

Suddenly the entire scheme seemed insane, and utterly unfair of me, but I told myself that whatever the consequences, Mr Prufrock had only brought it on himself with his behaviour. It was true, but it didn't seem right, not when he'd given me so much pleasure, and looking back, there was no denying the excitement I'd got out of our arrangement. Maggie was right, I was a slut, and not just for other girls.

I'd soon finished the first litre of water and started on the second, all the while still agonising over what I was doing. Only two things kept me from abandoning the entire thing – the thought of how badly I needed the money I would win, and because to give up meant that I genuinely was Mr Prufrock's pet tart.

With the second bottle half empty my tummy was bulging so badly I looked as if I was pregnant, while my bladder had begun to ache. I was also heavily aroused, with a multitude of dirty thoughts coursing through my head and that same delicious sense of erotic helplessness I get when I'm being held firmly across a bigger woman's knees. Now was the point of no return, because once I'd sent Clive his text that would be that.

Still I hesitated, but the ache in my bladder was beginning to grow to pain and I was having to wriggle my toes to stop myself from doing it all in my panties by accident instead of on purpose. At last I gave in, telling Mr Prufrock I needed to send a message to ask AJ to bring some clean panties and instead typing in the ‘OK' Clive and I had agreed on as a signal. The moment it had gone I spoke up.

‘I don't think I can hold on much longer, Mr Prufrock. We'd better go into the back.'

‘Oh no,' he said, ‘I want you to hold on as long as possible, until you have a real accident.'

‘I think I will, soon,' I told him, fighting back the urge to call him a filthy, sadistic bastard.

He was that, and more, grinning as I winced with pain and my hand went to my tummy.

‘Please just let me do it,' I urged. ‘I thought you wanted to see it come out?'

‘I've seen you pee,' he insisted, ‘now I want to watch you have a genuine accident.'

‘Come into the back anyway,' I suggested. ‘You said not to do it on the floor.'

‘Ah, but I have plans,' he said, and winked. ‘You're going to mop it up, still in your wet panties.'

I made a face, thinking how I'd look, crawling on the floor with nothing on but a pair of pee-soaked knickers, the sodden material clinging to my bum cheeks and pussy, mopping up my own puddle. It would be soon too. The pain had begun to come in waves, to leave me holding my tummy and treading up and down, before fading, only to rise once more.

‘Please come in the back,' I begged. ‘Please? My tummy hurts . . .'

‘Then let go,' he suggested.

I was gasping as the pain hit its peak. It was hopeless, I really couldn't hold it, but somehow I couldn't just let go either. After a moment the pain receded again, only to come back, stronger than ever, leaving me sobbing badly with my poor tummy clutched in both hands. Once again the pain faded, but no more than a little while an altogether different sensation had begun to creep up on me too, and I knew that with the next peak I'd have to let go, or risk doing something infinitely worse than wetting my panties.

‘I can't . . . I just can't!' I sobbed, and my nerve had gone completely.

Panic overwhelmed me at the thought of what I was about to do. I snatched at my clothes and dashed for the door, praying Clive had managed to unlock it. He had, and I was through, hurling myself up the stairs and into the Ladies with a desperate hope that nobody would be in the back corridor, or the loos. They weren't, and I made the stall, a moment too late, a sense of utter hopelessness swamping me even as I lifted the seat and the next instant was pissing in my panties.

I slumped down on the lavatory, sobbing in exhaustion and despair as it all came out, hissing and
bubbling into my panties, soaking up over pussy and between the cheeks of my bum. My back was to the cistern, my eyes closed, and as my pee dribbled through the seat of my knickers into the bowl below I could feel the tension draining out of my body. I knew I was going to do it, my resistance gone along with every last spark of modesty or decency or self-restraint.

My bumhole had started to open and I didn't even try to stop myself, or bother to push my knickers down. I just let it come, one fat piece squeezing out between my cheeks and into my panty pouch, cutting off as my bumhole closed, only for a second to follow, bigger and heavier still. My panties began to sag, swelling under my bottom as they filled, to pull my wet gusset against my cunt, with my pee still bubbling out through the cotton and dribbling from the bulge now hanging beneath me.

I'd done it in my panties, not just pee but everything, and I didn't want to stop. My bumhole had begun to come open again and I just let it, groaning aloud as a third log joined the two already hanging in my knickers. I could feel more inside, and now pushed on purpose, squeezing it out until my load was so fat and so heavy it had begun to pull my knickers down at the back.