The Sunshine Cruise Company Read Online Free PDF

money had gone into getting this place exactly as he liked it.
    ‘Unnff, urrrgh!’ He was straining forward, trying to get to her. But it was hopeless – his arms were tethered to the ceiling by leather straps. He was kneeling on the table, a kind of massage table, naked save for the leather mask that completely encased his head. Her knickers were stuffed in his mouth forming a makeshift gag. Only his eyes had free reign – mad white globes staring through the eyeholes in the mask, following her around the room, never leaving the tip of the dildo she was pointing at him.
    The dildo was a specialist custom-made job. He called it ‘The Rectifier’. It was matt black, close to two feet long with a girth of just over six inches: basically four coke cans stacked on top of each other. The sides were ridged, with additional spiked knobbles close to the base.
    ‘You can’t take all of this, can you? Can you – you fucking loser?’
    ‘Hnngggg! Uhnnnnn!’ He was nodding frantically, denying this vicious slur as she moved around behind him, out of his sight. He tried to crane his head to follow her but couldn’t. The top of the mask had a D-ring that was also tethered to the low ceiling. He could hear a wet, thick dripping sound.
Oh God, what was she doing back there?
The delicious agony of not knowing, of being utterly defenceless.
    What she was doing was slathering KY jelly onto the Rectifier. His buttocks were already well greased with the stuff. (He bought it by the case from CostCo – got a good deal.) He was shaking his arse frantically now, trying to lean backwards as far as the harness would allow, proffering his glistening cheeks towards her. She smiled as she noticed this. Nearly laughed.
Begging
for it, he was. She had a few weirdo clients – you were in this racket long enough you’d get a few nutters – but this guy really was out there. Loved it up him.
Loved it.
    She came up behind him and whispered close to his ear. ‘I’m not going to do it this time. You’ve had enough. You filthy piece of shit. I’m going. I’m just leaving you here.’
    ‘UNNGHHHHH! ARRRRRR! ARRRRRR!’ He was going absolutely bananas now. Trying to talk. Shaking his head from side to side, trying to spit the gag out.
    ‘Do you really want it?’ she purred into his ear.
‘How much do you want it?
’ She slipped the tip between his cheeks, very gently probing his anus with the monster.
    ‘MMMMMFFFFNNNGGG!’
    She tore the gag out and he screamed:
    ‘PLEASE! PLEASE PUT IT IN MEEEEEEEEEE!
’
    She began to work it in, cautiously at first. It was like trying to force a truncheon into a closed sea anemone.
    Unseen by her, working away back there at the coalface, his eyeballs flipped upwards in their sockets and he began to emit a long, grateful, musical sigh.

EIGHT
    THE CLINKING OF glasses, the squeak and pop of corks and the happy chatter of the Wroxham Players and friends unwinding. There were about fifty people – cast, crew, close friends and family – packed into the set of three interconnecting dressing rooms, where a makeshift bar had been set up in the corner of the largest one.
    ‘Not much talent,’ Ethel said sadly, scanning the room. ‘He’s not bad though …’
    ‘
Ethel
,’ Julie said warningly, as she followed Ethel’s gaze through the crush, to see that it had settled on the unlikely lust figure of 72-year-old props man Johnny Grainger.
    ‘Oh, keep your knickers on and get me a top-up,’ Ethel said, proffering her empty wine glass. ‘I’m just window-shopping.’ Julie thought that, even by her own standards, Ethel had outdone herself tonight on the outfit front. She was wearing some kind of ball gown, its taffeta ruffles bubbling up and all around her like foam, like there was a wave breaking beneath her and spilling out all over the wheelchair. The dress revealed more cleavage than most would think appropriate for a woman approaching her tenth decade. It looked like a bricklayer had fallen down