This is my first new story in quite a while. An earlier version of it appeared as an anonymized guest post on another site. This is definitely a more Monocle type story than a Raziel type, so don’t go looking for deep writing or theme exploration here. This is good old fashioned smut. -M
Harley was resigned to being stood up. Again. Patrick had picked the restaurant, and the time, and promised he’d be there, but no. No call, no text, and she’d be damned if she was going to text him. So there she was, with a too-expensive glass of wine, in a place she could – or would – never have afforded to actually eat, in her best little black dress, alone at a table for two. It was going to be humiliating asking for the check, using cab fare to pay for her drink, and walking home in heels not meant for 6 city blocks.
“Excuse me, Miss Addison?” a tentative male voice, interrupted her dark-cloud reverie. That wasn’t her name, but it seemed directed at her, so she looked up to see to whom he was talking. Apparently he actually was addressing her. He was young and handsome, but no one she recognized. Before Harley could say anything, however, he was sliding a thick envelope across the table to her. Had he read her expression as acknowledgement?
“It’s all there. And we all signed like you wanted.”
Harley eyed the envelope, then looked up at the guy. She contemplated him and the second man, also pretty cute, standing next to him, for a long moment. It was pretty clear they thought she was someone else, but their almost palpable earnestness, and the way they were looking at her, had her curiosity burning. In no hurry, she reached for the envelope.
Inside were three things. The first was a tri-folded set of papers, the second two were two neat, bound bundles of pristine $100 bills. She estimated from their thicknesses that they totaled at least $5000 or something. She tried to keep her expression completely neutral, though had no idea what success she was having. What the hell was this? Some kind of weird drug deal? Did she need to bolt?
No. He said they’d signed something. She pulled out the folded paper and opened it. It looked like some sort of contract. Not a real one, though. Harley was a friggin’ law clerk and knew what these things were supposed to look like. Well, maybe not this thing, she thought as she read. As informal contracts went, though, it was pretty well done. It was the content, the conditions, the stipulations, that had her reading carefully, thoroughly.
She glanced back up at the two men. One was blonde and bearded, the other dark and wild-haired. Both dressed in fashion, standing and waiting politely, barely fidgeting, almost succeeding in looking cool and suave.
“Have a seat,” she said. She thought maybe she should say she’d only be a minute or two, but the pages told her she was in control of this interaction, and she needed control of something right at that moment. Blondie took the seat across from her, and wild-hair boy – the one who’d spoken to her, begged an unused chair from a nearby table. Harley watched them from under her lashes as they moved and sat. They were certainly pleasant to look at.
She found her heart starting to race – and cheeks start to color, as she read on. She took a sip – a big sip – of her wine and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. The document was… audacious, and maybe a bit obnoxious, which made it pretty incredible all told. She read the whole thing, checking for soundness and loopholes, and really there weren’t any. At the end of the document were seven signatures next to seven printed names.
She still couldn’t fully believe what she’d just read. More, she couldn’t believe the consideration she was giving it. Then her mind flashed to Patrick, and to her tiny, cold, distant apartment.
She turned to the dark haired man, and glanced at the signatures.
“James. But everybody calls me Jim.”
And yes, there was an Olaf Sigur-something in the list. She watched them both for another few breaths, trying to look aloof and businesslike while her mind spun, and butterflies danced in her stomach. Then, she decided.
Harley re-folded the papers and slid them back into the envelope before finishing the last of mhery wine. She took a slow breath as she looked at Jim and Olaf in turn.
“All in order,” she said, and stood. Olaf took her coat-check number when she handed it to him, and Jim flagged the tuxedoed waiter with his platinum card and paid for the wine. Now that she’d set the wheels in motion, she tried not to letting herself think too much, letting Olaf help her into her coat at the ornate door while. Jim exited first, signaling to the big, black SUV limo that was waiting just outside the restaurant entrance.
The ride to the Four Seasons was not long, but it was quiet. The two men had relaxed when she’d approved, but now there was a building tension in the air. Harley sat between them, and was hyper aware of their warmth next to her, of their eyes on her legs and dress, of one hand casually resting next to her knee, of another against her thigh on the other side. Their tentativeness seemed to fade as the car drove.
…a Contract for sexual liaison…
They pulled up to the insanely posh hotel and entered. They stopped by the concierge so she could put her envelope in safekeeping, and then followed Jim and Olaf to the penthouse elevator.
…complete, enthusiastic Servicing…
During the ascent, Jim slowly pulled the zip down the back of Harley’s dress.
…enclosed Certificates of health…
Olaf slipped the dress off her shoulders and slid his hands down her sides, hooking thumbs into her panties to pull them down as Jim hooked her bra. She knew without looking that her panties were damp.
…no holes barred…
When the elevator door opened onto the penthouse foyer, the five men waiting there were greeted by the sight of her naked save for her shoes, standing in a puddle of her clothes.
Seven different men. It looked like most continents were represented by the group. She suppressed a shudder at the reality facing her. Hands reached for her, caressing her arms, sides, hips, as Jim took her hand and lead her into the dimly lit suite, guiding her to the bedroom, to an immense expertly turned down bed, with luxurious blankets and pillows on and around it. She heard names being introduced – the names from the list, but the pounding of her heart almost drowned them out
…Safeword ends all activity…
Collectively, almost reverently they laid her back onto the bed. Hands started groping her breasts and sliding between her thighs to the rustling of clothes being shed. Harley watched seven toned, bodies emerge, each handsome in his own way. She also watched seven cocks rising, hardening, each distinct in size and shape and character.
…balance to be paid after Completion…
One of those cocks was presented to her mouth as she felt her legs drawn apart by strong hands on either side. As she took the clean, hard head between her lips, two fingers slid into her soaked pussy. The sensation made her gasp and groan around the cock sliding into her mouth.
…for the Period of one full night…
Now there were hands were all over her. A mouth latched on to her breast and sucked hard on the nipple. The cock in her mouth slid deeper, a hand twining in her hair to keep her in place while the glans pushed toward her throat. The fingers in her slit pushed in and out a few times then withdrew, to be replaced by a warm, hard cockhead.
…no protection required of the Contractors…
Harley had not taken a bare cock since she’d gone off the pill two years ago. The fact of the raw flesh pushing into her now almost made her panic about what could happen. But then she thought of the money. A day-after pill would be easy to buy. The thought of what the cock now starting to fuck her could do to her – what any of them could do – awakened a nervous excitement she’d never felt before.
She moaned around the cock fucking her mouth, until it cut off her sound by pushing down her throat – its owner moaning in her stead as he started coming. She swallowed reflexively, working on not gagging. Her focus was divided, however as a finger slid across her clit just the cock fucking her pussy withdrew. With her air cut off, however temporarily, her mind reeled and the pleasure between her legs spiked crazily. She was going to come, or pass out, or both.
She didn’t pass out. The spent cock pulled from her mouth in time for her to draw breath and scream at her first orgasm, which in turn triggered the man fucking her – it was Jim – to slam all the way in and pump his come deep into her.
That was only Harley’s first orgasm of the night, and those loads of semen were only the first she took in her pussy and mouth. She would lose count of how many more times she came, and how many more times cocks would fill and come inside her – pussy, mouth – and ass as well.
Seven virile, horny men paid for her, took her, shared her, used her all night long, on a case of mistaken identity, and Harley loved every minute of it.
Harley never returned the message Patrick eventually sent. She was busy writing up her own contract.