| Hunger, Chapter 5 The absence of underwear surprised him when the white lace trimmed maid's dress hit the floor. Although she was young—relatively speaking—and very physically attractive, he thought of this member of his staff as matronly. His eyes traveled the mature thick figure from the full pear-shaped olive toned tits to her densely black carpeted cunt. He'd been tempted to abuse his power with many of the staff before but was strictly forbidden by his up-tight brother. Maurice didn't know, and didn't need to know about his wheeling and dealing. Most of it was quasi legal; always in his best interests, not necessarily in the interests of the Board's Chair or the hotel-casino. When the old man was alive things had been kept pretty low key. Now that his novice wife was at the helm the conspirators were emboldened. Hector's role was simple—provide intelligence on Missus Winston's plans. His co-conspirator, Ted Brisbane, would ensure that he was handsomely rewarded. The alternative was not so pleasant. If he didn't cooperate chances were that he was out. The lawyer, unlike the Winstons, was not going to be dictated to by the cook. In the new regime that put him as the powerful, one instead of his famous brother. To Hector that would be putting things in order—the way they should be. He was older than Maurice and far more aggressive. That's what it took to really get ahead in this town. A willingness to do what was necessary to ensure victory for your side while simultaneously advancing your own cause. You had to have the hunger and his kid brother didn't. The General Manager drank in the luxurious nakedness of the terrified maid and thought, 'Once I'm out from under the Winston's thumb and get rid of that prick head of security I can do more of this.' By now Marguerite had positioned both of her hands demurely over her densely carpeted mons and appeared to be shivering. The position caused her elbows to squeeze her full tits together, forcing the olive toned jugs to jut from between the 'V' shaped gap formed by her upper arms. Her long thick dark brown nipples pointed at him like a pair of accusing fingers. Hector had seen that pose in men's magazines and had always found the shyness feigned by the brazen models alluring. This reticence was the real deal and his dick responded with an almost painful jerk against its clothing constraints as it ratcheted to its next level of erection. "If you've got something to show me, get on with it," the General Manager commanded. The Latina's sexually repressed upbringing screamed at her to snatch up her clothes and run away, while her innate modesty made her feel faint. Meanwhile her pragmatic brain urged her on. This was the only possible argument that she had to save her job. It was her only card and she had to play it. Standing naked in front of the Supreme Being, frozen, in a last ditch effort to avoid repeating the humiliating performance the maid decided to explain the heiress's orders as she'd understood them. "She ... she wanted me to, uh ... to ... to play with myself, while she ... uh, she watched." Hector's member twitched painfully again at the explanation. He had several DVDs featuring women masturbating; in fact it was one of his favorite porn genres. The idea of a live performance ended the twitching. His manhood pressed persistently against his boxers and trousers, determined to achieve its full upright position. Even with her eyes on the floor Marguerite had noticed the movements at her lord and master's crotch. The evidence of his increasing sexual arousal was now displayed by the distortion in the front of his very expensive suit pants. The subservient, terrified Hispanic was shocked and ashamed by the reaction between her legs. The GM couldn't take the pressure any longer. After lowering his fly and reaching in to position the slit in the front of his boxers the forward thrust of his member did the rest. All six inches of his circumcised penis sprang into view. Marguerite glanced up enough to see the indecent exposure and groaned. Hector's dick celebrated its freedom waving and jerking in front of him. "You were going to show me ... remember?" he prompted taking a firm grip on his pulsating tool. Marguerite was feeling pulsations of her own. She'd only ever deliberately exposed herself to one other human being in thirty-six years of life and now she'd tripled the number of eyes to ever feast on her abundant charms in a matter of hours. An internal struggle was raging. Her normal self, the one she knew, was mortified, terrified and embarrassed to the point of tears. Evidently there was another Marguerite residing inside her—one she hadn't met. It was the stranger in her, the one she'd caught a glimpse of in the owner's suite, who now seemed to be taking control. Her fingers worked their way through and parted the dense black bush and then proceeded to open the protruding labial folds. Her lips felt hot and puffy on her fingers and when she parted them a new wave of embarrassment washed over her. The slick juices that they had been containing quickly coated her prying fingers and the insistent hum that she'd been trying to ignore at the apex of her pouting wings began to throb. Three fingers slid up to where her need felt the strongest. The outer two fingers held the lips open while the center one dove to tease the bulb of her desire. The initial contact with her clit forced all the air out of her lungs in a visceral groan and sent her head spinning into another dimension. In a way she felt as though she was levitating—no longer standing on the floor. She was floating like a cork. Rising and falling as the hot waves lifted and dropped her with gut churning results. She couldn't think clearly enough to determine whether her fingers were making the waves go faster, and higher and hotter, or if the increased amplitude and frequency of the waves was what was making her fingers accelerate to a speed that made them appear to be a blur. She looked up at her master, but not his face. Her eyes riveted on the General Manager's hand gliding up and down the bumpy textured pole sticking out of his pants. She could barely make out the coarse black hair on his knuckles and the back of his hand because of the rapid up and down motion. She had never seen a man masturbate before and the fascination turned to something else just an instant before the explosion. Her legs turned to molten wax unable to support any load and, although her eyes were wide open, all she could see was field of exploding stars as she sank to the richly carpeted floor. A moment before she landed on top of the black dress that had been encircling her feet, she noticed multiple launches from the veiny cylinder being so rapidly stroked by the big hairy fist. When Hector saw the maid's fingers part the obscuring hair of her nest, and the red gooeyness of the excited gash came into view he knew he was no longer in a meeting to recruit a spy. All that mattered now was the phenomenal sensation of his hand gliding over his rock hard manhood and the pressure building in his balls. He wished her fingers weren't in the way so he could get a clear view of her inner treasures, especially the secretive nubbin at the top of the glistening crease. When he heard all the air leave his compliant employee in a deep sigh of satisfaction he realized it really wasn't that important. His balls imploded making their contribution to the fluid that was already being forced out of his repository for ejaculate. It felt as though a hot fist had hammered into the tender spot just behind his sack and penetrated until there was a fireball deep in the center of his pelvis. As the creamy off white fluid shot a foot into the air the pressure release sent out waves of ecstasy causing every nerve in his body to rejoice. Hector pulled a tissue from the box sitting on his desk and then tossed the box in the direction of the dazed looking woman sitting on the floor. After giving his wilting dick a cursory cleaning he tucked it back into his pants and zipped up. "So that's what you did?" he asked authoritatively as his penis twitched feebly watching the Latina, sitting on the floor wipe at her sodden black muff. She was sobbing softly but he thought there was a sound interspersed that sounded like an affirmative. " Please don't fire me," she begged in between the involuntary contractions in her throat. "There is only one way for you to keep your job," Hector informed his naked and humiliated housekeeping employee. Marguerite looked up hopefully. Picking up the strip of listening chips from his desk he extended his hand offering them to the seated woman. "Tomorrow you will place one of these under each lamp and telephone in the Winston suite." The naked maid reached out and took the strip of tiny discs from her coercive boss's boss with a severely shaking hand. "They're self-adhesive, so you just stick them onto the bottom of the lamps and the phones ... quite easy really," Hector assured her with a smug grin. "The only trick is making sure that you don't get caught," he added straightening his jacket. Marguerite was still in a daze; sitting on the floor looking at the spy tools when Hector opened the door and parted with the words, "If you accomplish this all will be forgiven," and then he was gone. The Security Director stood leaning against the wall in the hallway a short distance from the door to the General Manger's office. He had seen the untrustworthy man in charge of everything in the complex—except him and his people—escort the curvy Hispanic to his lair. He had a fair idea that it wasn't a social meeting. He had orders of the highest priority to keep a tight leash on the unscrupulous brother of their prized Chef and he generally appointed himself to the task. There was nothing more important or politically sensitive. He made his way quickly to his office; locking the door behind him. Charles Winston just months before his death had come to him with four flash drives and a system access code. It was no surprise to anyone that all of the gaming areas and common areas of the hotel were under video surveillance. Monitoring of the system and maintenance of the files was part of his job; duly delegated to junior members of his staff. He knew from the day the old man hired him that there was a part of the system he didn't have access to. It didn't trouble him but he did find it a little strange. That day two years ago he learned what the ultra secure part of the surveillance system contained. There was a whole separate video system that was very covertly installed in the luxury suites and executive offices. Virtually every square inch of those units was covered by cameras much more sophisticated than those of the main system. As Mister Winston had explained it, the secondary system allowed him to monitor the activities of key employees and guests. The access code allowed Egan to view the streaming video from those secret cameras and access the archived footage. He remembered feeling honored to be the only other person with those privileges. His boss charged him with a responsibility. 'If anything happens to me look at the contents of these memory sticks ... you'll know what to do from there.' he'd said. 'I'm relying on you to look out for Rebecca and Ester's interests after I'm gone ... don't let me down, ' his mentor concluded their meeting. When he'd heard of the old man's sudden passing he'd wondered if there'd been foul play. 'Did he know something was about to happen? Is that why he gave me memory sticks and the access codes?' A year later he was no closer to knowing the truth but his charge to protect Missus Winston and her step-daughter was now his top priority. Egan was quite sure the General Manager escorting the maid toward his office was up to no good, so he entered his codes and selected Hector D'Angelo's office to be displayed on his screen. There was nothing interesting to the protector of the owner's interests about Hector jacking-off in his office to a show put on by the poor, and obviously terrified Hispanic, but the Security Director couldn't help identifying with his arch-enemy. He fought off his own lusty thoughts at the sacrifice of his comfort. He'd sent the S.O.S to his lieutenant even before the simultaneous collapse of the characters on his monitor screen. When the wireless bugs changed hands his voyeurism became completely justified. The last of the day shift were headed for the rear exit to the employee parking area. Egan waited patiently knowing that his target would be the last to arrive. Marguerite came through the door and turned toward the women's locker room. "Missus Lopez," he called out to the curvy Latina in the black maid's dress. Her head snapped toward the sound of the voice and her blood ran cold. The security man struck fear into every employee. Reporting to the Chairperson, no one, not even Mister D'Angelo was immune to his authority—with good reason. Everyone was constantly under suspicion. There was a lot of money and valuables around ever-tempting not only the low paid staff but in sufficient quantities to entice even management. She knew that the strip of discs she'd hidden away in her bra were more incriminating than anything she could steal. Although she'd never personally experienced it she was aware of the policy of random searches. In fact, as a condition of employment, they had to sign a waiver agreeing to them. Stories told by some of the other female staff sent chills down her spine, but surprisingly, also created disturbing sensations between her legs. "My office," the casino's top cop ordered without moving a muscle. Marguerite felt her anus tighten as she moved on stiff legs in the direction of the security office and away from the comfortable refuge of the women's locker room. After all of her years as a model employee how could this be happening and all in the same day. 'He must know something ... somehow he knows!' Not that she would have been able to meet his eyes anyway, but those damn glasses made him that much more terrifying. The office door stood open and the maid entered as though she were entering a death chamber. Egan followed her in. The heavy clunk of the door closing and latching almost made her squeal—it did make her jump. "I presume you know why you're here," the Security Chief speculated. She couldn't reveal what she had—what the supreme boss had given her. 'Maybe he won't find it, ' she kidded herself. If they'd been on a higher floor of the hotel and there'd been a window she might have considered jumping out of it. There was no escape from the below ground level office. "Remove your dress please," the man in the dark suit and eye shielding glasses said as though he had every right. Marguerite knew that these searches were supposed to be conducted by an officer of the same sex as the suspect. It was proper procedure for her to be searched by a woman. With trembling hands up behind her neck fumbling for the zipper tab her visceral fear prevented her from asserting her rights. She was relieved, as much as that was possible in the circumstances, that she'd taken the time to at least put her bra on in the General Manager's office so she wouldn't be naked this time when the dress fell. Her panties had been too soggy from the incident with the teenaged heiress and so had remained in her pocket. She felt cool soft hands on hers and a voice near her ear saying, "Let me help you." When she turned she saw her housekeeping partner wearing an identical white lace trimmed black dress right beside her. For one brief instant she wondered where the other woman had come from, and then dismissed the question as irrelevant. The important thing was that the tall blonde had lowered the zipper of her uniform to the top of her butt and was now starting to tug it off her shoulders. The fact that she'd worked at the hotel-casino for five years and never seen the blonde until they were assigned to the owner's special detail that morning did not seem odd to Marguerite. The fact that there were so many staff and shift schedules meant that there were employees she just never encountered. Egan had a covert staff. Security personnel dressed as customers scattered around the gaming floor. It was rumored that he also had operatives within the regular staff; porters, waiters, maids. Marguerite had never believed the gossip until that moment. Bethany was lowering her dress down her arms and the suspect maid was looking down at her bra gradually being revealed. Because of the tightness she felt in her nipples she concluded that they were semi erect as they often were ever since nursing her two children. She had to tell herself that it wouldn't be noticed—even thought she knew it would. As the maid's uniform descended and Bethany pulled it off her wrists, an icicle of shame pierced her heart. As the black dress hung on her wide hips she realized that when it dropped she'd be naked except for the white cotton bra. The tall blonde provided the uniform a little encouragement to clear the Latina's fleshy hips and backside. It hit the floor and formed a useless black puddle. The all but naked mother of two wasn't sure which was more embarrassing; being stripped by her housekeeping partner who'd turned out to be a mole, or the physiological reaction she was having to it. Egan was resting his ass against the desk and would have thought the swarthy woman was wearing a black thong if he hadn't already reviewed the tape. He felt his balls tighten immediately and his member begin to grow. His assistant smiled as she stepped behind the shivering woman and released the long row of hooks on the back strap of the white brassiere. Deprived of the support the heavy mature breasts pulled the garment down with them. Marguerite's modesty reflex caused her to put her hand in front of her pubes and her arm across her chest as she hunched forward trying to conceal her impending nakedness and perhaps, by some miracle, retain possession of the incriminating bra. "Stand up straight," Egan barked. The Hispanic woman obediently straightened up but kept her hands in their shielding positions. Bethany managed to pull the bra off anyway. Marguerite's shame and embarrassment for that moment took a backseat to the fear of the bugs in her bra being discovered. "Hands at your sides," the blonde security officer posing as a maid ordered as she extracted the incriminating strip of listening devices and held them up for her boss to see. Egan smiled at how readily the mystery visit to the GM's office was explained. Marguerite complied with the barked order and her insides sunk into her shoes. In spite of being caught with the surveillance equipment, and all the potential consequences there of, her nipples continued to stiffen and distend. Naked and unable to meet the gaze of the security chief and his assistant she was looking down her own body, watching them grow. Memories of suckling her children were not helpful. That just made the dark brown pegs tingle even more. "Do you always work without underwear," Egan asked sharply. "N ... no ... I—" the terrified woman's embarrassment ratcheted up once again and her hands moved to cover her full bush. "Maybe there's a reason she took them off," Bethany speculated. "It's a good place to hide small things ... wouldn't be the first time," the head of security speculated. His penis had reached full erection and had begun to throb. "Maybe she has more of these hidden in there," the blonde speculated, tossing the strip of bugs to her boss. Marguerite felt her stomach flip at the suggestion. She had thought that her tormentors would now carefully go through all of her clothes and, finding nothing more, might let her go. 'They don't really search in—' she couldn't even allow the thought to complete but her pussy yelped and her asshole twitched completing it anyway. "Sit up here," Bethany commanded pulling over a high barstool that had been standing against the wall. The suspect raised her downcast eyes and looked in horror on the tall chair. She wouldn't allow herself to think about what was coming next, and instead struggled her fleshy ass up onto the hard lacquered wood by stepping on the cross wrung. Her blonde housekeeping partner crouched directly in front of her and put her hands on Marguerite's knees. "Open your legs," she ordered, while pushing outward. Only the instinct for self-preservation kept the compromised Latina from passing out. She was nauseous and her head was spinning but some primal fear of falling off the high seat kept her conscious. 'There's no way out, ' she felt total resignation envelope her. 'Even if I quit my job, right here and now they could still do it anyway.' She thought about her husband's on again off again construction work. Her paycheck was the one that kept a roof over their heads and food, on the table. She'd reached a pay level with her seniority and performance that she couldn't match elsewhere and if she had a blemish on her security record no one would hire her anyway. She simply had no option but to comply. 'If I cooperate maybe it will go faster ... be over sooner.' She allowed the blonde to push her legs as far apart as they could go. Tipping her head back and praying for deliverance the coolness of the office air and the crouching woman's breath made her saturated bush tingle. Bethany was careful to keep slightly to the side so as not to block her boss's view. From his vantage point Egan couldn't make out the long darkly colored inner lips protruding. They were still masked by the luxurious thick growth of hair. He did see the widening red gash of the Latina's inner folds and his dick jerked in response. The crouching blonde inhaled the complex scent and felt her vaginal walls contract. The perfume of whatever kind of soap Marguerite had used to clean up did not completely erase the sharp smell of urine and it was no match for the heated aroma of arousal at all. The security officer who'd been posing as a maid could see the creamy juices trickling out of the dark pink interior. The urge to lap them up was all but overpowering. She knew her place. "I think you'd better have a look at this Chief," she said dutifully. |