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He cleans more than just the pool.


And so it was, having hardly recovered from their rape on the Gomorran border, that Tracey and Buttercup were reminded of the brutal realities of life in a man's world. Ralph and Bob led the two girls up a concrete stairwell to an array of offices where there were no women other themselves at all. All around them were men either in uniforms or bad-fitting suits, in offices full of the pallid aroma of cigarette smoke and covered in posters of nude women and motor cars. As they walked by, the men's eyes followed them, leering and unsympathetic. For the first time since she'd left home, Tracey was acutely aware of her nakedness as the men appraised her with the same air as evaluating any other functioning set of machinery.

And then into Ralph's office, where there was a wooden desk covered with papers and a bookshelf on the wall lined with ring-back folders. There was a prominent calendar of some men buggering some scrawny women. With no ceremony and no preparation, Ralph bade the girls lie down on the nylon-carpeted floor, which they did with trepidation under Ralph's and Bob's eyes, and those of a tall thin man in a striped shirt with a polyester tie decorated with picture of Bugs Bunny and Tweety Pie. And then Ralph, Bob and this other man pulled down their trousers revealing an unappetising trio of erect penises. Ralph's was short and stubby, surrounded by a bush of dark curly hair halfway up its length. Bob's was thin and narrow with a quite unpleasant smell. The third man's penis was similarly thin and narrow with a slight bend in it.

And then, one after another, Buttercup and Tracey got to know the penises rather better. Both girls knew better than to struggle. Buttercup by virtue of her years in Buggery where sex for her had often been of a similarly unpleasant coercive nature. Tracey as a result of all the fucks she'd had over the years back home. But however inexpert and unsubtle the fucks she'd got accustomed to, in dark alley-ways, in multi-storey car park stairwells, behind bus shelters, she'd had few which were quite as mechanical and perfunctory. The pricks went in, slobbery stubbly faces scraped against her cheeks and chin, her arms held down, and the thrusts back and forth with a steady unimaginative rhythm. She looked over at Buttercup who was enjoying it even less than her, eyes closed and a grimace over her face. Above her Bob was pushing away back and forth, while Ralph fucked away at her. And then all change as Bruce, the tall thin man took over, grunting and moaning above her, his tie drooping over Tracey's mouth as his skinny hairy buttocks thrust back and forth and back and forth. Tracey's cunt was sore as fuck. Sex wasn't usually this joyless.

And then, finally, an orchestrated trickle of sweet-sickly tasting semen over the girls' naked breasts and faces, and the men were standing, gasping and wheezing, as they eased their pricks back inside their flies and adjusted their belts. Tracey and Buttercup lay flat on the ground, semen-stained heads turned towards each other. Tracey rested her hands on her crotch in a vain attempt to lessen the ache that came from the inner folds of her cunt. Buttercup with her hands drawn up and clasped together on her chest, as if in prayer after the ordeal she had endured.

"Well, girls! No more fucking sitting around enjoying yourself," barked Ralph. "It's back to the fucking shop floor with you two. And no fucking shirking off either, you bitches! Don't think that a bit of fun upstairs brings you whores any fucking special privileges."

Buttercup and Tracey were then led back to the shop floor, semen still over their faces and dripping down their thighs, through a cordon of male office-workers who leered and grinned lasciviously at them as they passed by. One took advantage of their vulnerability to slap Buttercup forcibly on her buttocks causing her to yelp. Several men laughed at her distress, Bob joining in.

"You're a fucking popular whore with the boys!" he grinned.

And then the two girls were back o

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