Having set himself the audacious vengeful task of deflowering fifteen-year-old Tiffany Standish, somehow Joel McCabe had to get to her, under the radar of protective father and arch nemesis, Mickey. No straightforward task, home to the luscious Barbie clone was a luxury penthouse suite above the club. With the only access being via a door inside the club, Fort Knox would be easier to penetrate for the unwelcome former employee with a bounty on his head. A cunning plan was required if Joel were even to worm his way inside let alone have Tiffany to himself.
As he sat basking in regret for a life about to be cut cruelly short, Joel recalled that Friday was big money Texas Hold’em day in the Standish Empire. Well, he could hardly forget, given that three weeks earlier his life savings plus another four grand parted company. Now, if only he could get a game… Sadly, a minimum buy-in of £500 all but priced him out.
The luckless gambler really, really didn’t want to part with the trusty VW Golf that had served him tirelessly over the past decade, certainly not for the paltry sum of £500. It was worth double if not more. But, having received only the one firm offer so far, and with time running out, he was in no position to hold out for more. Besides which, reliable German road-holding didn’t count for much where he was going. Within an hour the deal was done, the wad of crumpled notes in his clammy paw.
—
“A last throw of the dice, huh Joel?” observed Standish, theatrically checking his fifty grand Rolex as Joel joined the assembly of gangsters, drug dealers, chancers, henchmen and hangers-on that populated the Friday showdown.
Joel nodded silently, cheery in the knowledge that he knew something Mickey didn’t. it was an advantage that held him steadfast in the belief he could remain strong right up to the end. He knew he was going to die but he was going out in Broadway style. Though his heart was racing, this the biggest gamble of his life, and it had nothing to do with money.
Three tables of ten players, the format was simple: last man standing took the lot. With unlimited rebuys for the first hour, the pot was liable to swell to enough to buy Standish a new wristwatch. For Joel, however, the dream of starting a new life with the fifty grand prize was a non-starter. Even if he did get lucky, he would be tracked down and snuffed out, that or live his life in constany fear and glances over the shoulder. No, this wasn’t about the money but the more important virtues of pride and revenge.
An hour in to the game, his stack had dwindled to a handful of notes, any outside hope of playing himself out of trouble rapidly diminished. Glancing up, his heart missed a beat as his eyes fell upon Tiffany Standish, fresh from a West End shopping expedition, weighted down with exclusive bags. A peck on her father’s cheek so as not to disturb his card playing, she retreated upstairs avoiding Joel’s glare. Backside wiggling provocatively, he heaved a deep breath, steeling himself for what had to be done.
When finally his luck ran out, Joel issued his goodbyes. “Bye Joel,” mouthed Standish tacitly, the implication evident, before he returned his attention to the game.
Joel reckoned he had about six hours and wondered briefly which one at the table would be charged with the task of killing him. Engrossed in their game, no one paid heed to the sneakily executed left turn, brefore he headed up the stairs, heart pounding violently. He could hear Tiffany the other side of the door, speaking on the telephone. Raising a fist, he took another huge breath and knocked. Tiffany’s eye filled the spyhole. “Joel? Go away.”
“Tiffany, let me in, we need to speak.”
“I can’t, I’m going out soon.”
“Just two minutes,” he implored.
“Go away or I’m calling daddy.”
“I’ve something I want to give you, a present, before…” he appealed, letting the sentence hang in the air.
He knew the only way to get inside was to offer something. The door opened and the shallow teenaged minx smiled thinly. “Well, what is it?” she asked with a pout, dressed in a white tank top and pleated blue skirt, purchased hours earlier from the finest Knightsbridge boutiques, her long blonde hair tied in a bow.
Hands on hips, a look of impatience filled her face as Joel hesitated, battling his fear. Gathering up the mettle, he made the move with ninja-like stealth, grasping her thin wrist and twisting the girl around so she faced away, a palm pressed to her mouth, the knife to her belly. As they shuffled to the living room, his whispered warning in her ear not to struggle went unheeded as she gyrated like a pole dancer on acid.
It was only as they entered the expansive lounge that Joel realised how badly he’d misjudged the situation. Sat on the couch were two other females he recognised instantly as Mickey Standish’s third wife, Jackie, and his eldest daughter, Tiffany’s half-sister, Charlotte. Mouths fell open, all eyes his way as he wrestled the eel-like Tiffany into an armchair, still clasped tightly to his body. “Don’t hurt her,” cried Jackie instinctively.
A former model of forty, Jackie Standish had the figure of a younger woman, breasts defying gravity and the intervening years. A bubbled-haired streetwise brunette, her eyes were large like a baby’s. Clad in a spangly tight pink shirt and jeans, she had been tending to Charlotte’s hair prior to Joel’s intrusion.
Sat next to her stepmother on the couch, Charlotte Standish sported an armless, spaghetti-strapped turquoise top that stopped above the belly to reveal the obligatory navel piercing. In contrast to the older woman, Charlotte had a slender body, lacking cleavage, reminiscent of a budding schoolgirl. Her big highlighted hair was piled upon her head in readiness for a night on the town. Charlotte recognised Joel, her eyes slanting, though it was Jackie that spoke. “You’ve got some nerve coming in here.”
Joel swallowed hard, assessing the situation. He had one advantage, Tiffany in his arms, a knife held menancingly close to her windpipe. “You make a sound and I’ll slit her throat,” he countered, trying his best to convey an air of menace as Tiffany squirmed and wriggled in his lap.
“Let her go,” stated Jackie coolly. “Let her go and you can walk away no more said.”
Joel didn’t rate his chances. He’d be lucky to get past the front door. As Jackie made to rise from the couch, Joel ordered her to remain seated, his grip tightening at Tiffany’s neck. “If it’s money, you want…”
Joel shook his head over Tiffany’s shoulder, the captive physically shaking. It wasn’t about money.
“We’ll do anything you say, just don’t hurt her,” offered Charlotte.
Joel contemplated the offer, salacious thoughts springing to mind. Maybe he could turn this adverse situation to an advantage. A three-for-one deal, his cock was throbbing with anticipation. “Anything, huh?” he mused. “Okay, I want you to start by taking off each other’s clothes…slowly mind.”
The pair looked at each other then at Joel, the blade remaining at Tiffany’s throat. “No fucking about or she gets it. And believe me, I mean it.”
There was a flicker of recognition in Jackie’s huge Bambi eyes. Maybe she knew his fate. Maybe she realised he had absolutely nothing to lose. Certainly she was more compliant than he might have imagined, turning and inviting Charlotte closer. Charlotte hesitated, drawing a growl of displeasure from Joel’s lips and a whimper from Tiffany as the blade tightened. It needed a prompt from the older woman to animate Charlotte. “Just do as he says, honey.”
Gingerly Charlotte shuffled closer, Jackie inhaling as the younger woman’s tremulous fingers reached out to pop the top button on the pink shirt. The sheer material stretched across the expansive breasts, drawing Joel’s eyes. The second button opened to reveal the smooth tops of each breast. Joel heaved a deep sigh, his cock inflating to press at Tiffany’s coccyx.
The third button hinted at a white bra, a pair of buxom breasts straining at the lacy cups. Joel’s breath came faster, his arousal prompting Tiffany to shuffle uncomfortably on top. As the fourth and final button opened, Jackie’s breasts forced the shirt apart to expose a flat tanned belly. Charlotte looked across for direction, his hand gesture telling her to remove it completely. The shirt shimmied down Jackie’s long arms and off, leaving her in just the lacy bra, boobs quivering. It was the older woman’s turn to seek direction, a look that both frightened Joel and excited him in equal measure. Though he was in control, the balance could easily tip and if, for any reason, they were able to wield it back, he was done for. “Now take hers off,” he stated calmly.
Charlotte raised a pair of slender arms above her head, allowing Jackie to grip the sides of the turquoise armless top, hoisting it clear to reveal a thin, athletic and equally tanned body, lacking noticeably in curves. “Okay, strip each other off completely,” Joel prompted, emphasising the point by gritting his teeth as the knife scored the skin of Tiffany’s soft neck.
After an obligatory brief hesitation from the pair, broken by Tiffany’s whimper as Joel twisted the blade, Charlotte swung her shoulders around, allowing Jackie to reach for the clasp. A pair of pert b-cups, finished with the perkiest pink nipples was unveiled and immediately Charlotte went to cover herself. A further squeeze upon her sister’s throat and the resultant squeal, coupled with another steely glance, prompted them back to her sides. Joel feasted for precious moments, the bulge once more brushing the small of Tiffany’s back.
Jackie mirrored the younger girl’s actions, turning her back, Charlotte’s shaky fingers fumbling with the catch. The uncoupled bra rested momentarily upon Jackie’s globular breasts, before slipping down in slow motion into her lap. Her breasts were a high d-cup that stood defiantly upon her chest, with no midlife plunge as one might have expected. Jackie it seemed had been utilising Mickey Standish’s dirty money for cosmetic enhancement. “Pkay I want you to play with them, Charlotte,” mouthed Joel.
Charlotte’s eyes darted from Jackie’s to Joel’s to Tiffany’s, the latter’s wide with terror as the blade toyed with her throat. Firmly seated in Joel’s lap, she was repeating under her breath. “I can’t believe this is happening…I can’t believe this is happening…”
Joel chuckled, basking in the rosy glow of complete control over three sexy babes. Oh how he was going out in style, and to hell with the consequences. His only regret was not being able to witness Mickey Standish’s face when the scene was discovered. That would be almost worth the price. “Oh it is happening,” he whispered back in Tiffany’s ear, nuzzling the lobe with his teeth and prompting a volley of light whimpers from the girl. “Play with them, Charlotte,” he commanded.
Across the room, tentatively Charlotte extended an arm, fingers lightly touching the top of Jackie’s right breast. “Stroke it,” directed Joel, shuffling once more to attain comfort.
Following the tedious pause that had become an unwelcome cliche, Charlotte consented, tiny digits trailing the expanse of spherical flesh to the soft nipple. A caress and the nipple inflated. “Pinch it,” ordered Joel, smacking his lips.
Charlotte clamped the tips of thumb and forefinger over the erect teat, squeezing gently, far too lovingly for Joel’s taste. “Harder!” he barked.
Jackie gave an understanding nod of approval to the younger woman, sucking in air as the tightened fingers pinched and twisted, bringing pain then pleasure. Charlotte moved her hand across mimicking the action on the left nipple. Though Jackie looked disapproving, there was arousal in her body.
As Tiffany shuffled in Joel’s lap, nstinctively the hand around her waist started to stroke the toned belly through the white tank top. Held tight, Tiffany could do no more than shift side-to-side. Higher the hand progressed, finding the undersides of her breasts. Bra-less underneath the tank top, Joel ran a palm over the curved surface, grazing each attentive nipple. Tiffany fought to control her breathing. “Lift your arms,” Joel whispered in her ear, then louder: “LIFT.”
Tiffany consented grudgingly, the blade momentarily leaving her neck as Joel tugged the tank top clear, the other two women’s attention drawn to Tiffany’s peach-shaped boobs. Charlotte’s fingers seemed almost subconsciously to squeeze more meaningfully at her stepmother’s nipple, a stifled gasp betraying Jackie. Joel’s cock was so hard it chafed on his trousers.
Tiffany gasped too as Joel’s free hand found her newly exposed breasts, cupping each in turn, kneading and pinching. They felt good in his hands, so fresh and young. “Change around,” ordered Joel to the pair opposite. “I want to see you do that to Charlotte, Jackie.”
Charlotte’s arms dropped automatically to her sides as Jackie reached in to cradle each tiny breast. Concentrating on the perky nipples, minimal stimulation was required to prompt a treacherous moan of appreciation from the younger woman. “You want Jackie to suck them, don’t you Charlotte?” grinned Joel.
Charlotte shook her head in defiance. “Do it, Jackie,” their captor boomed.
Jackie hesitated, glancing over to see the knife had been lowered to caress Tiffany’s left breast, the blade teasing the nipple threateningly. “Please God, no,” Tiffany begged, her throat clenched. “Do as he says, Jackie…please…”
Hearing her beg almost made Joel cum in his pants though thank Christ he didn’t.
Having appraised the severity of the threat, Jackie obeyed, bending into Charlotte’s lean body, tongue extended beneath the erect teat. A lash of the tongue and the nipple was coated in saliva. Puckering, Jackie’s lips closed in. She sucked long and hard, causing Charlotte to dig her teeth in her bottom lip. Looking up, she saw Joel grinning over, quickly forcing her face to cloud over once more. “Put more effort in, Jackie,” sounded Joel, the prompt causing Jackie to glare but nonetheless press her face in and suck harder.
At the same time, Joel reached around to roll Tiffany’s hard nipples between thumb and forefinger. She wriggled uncomfortably in his lap, each movement forcing Joel’s stiff cock into the snug crevice of her arse. Sinking his teeth in her soft neck, she shied away, before the blade forced her back into position. “Run your fingers through Jackie’s hair,” Joel directed Charlotte. “Then I want to see you suck Jackie’s tits, okay.”
With a look of hate in her eyes, Charlotte stroked the older woman’s brunette curls. Jackie flung back her head, a further glare at Joel before she allowed Charlotte to press her lips to her huge orbs. Charlotte tried to reproduce Jackie’s actions but, being her first time with another woman, it was all highly uncomfortable and embarrassing for her. After a minute or so, Joel ordered a cessation. “Don’t they look so good together, Tiffany? Mmmmmmm. Charlotte, stand up. Jackie, stay put.”
Cleaning the saliva from her lips with a soft tongue, Charlotte did as she was ordered, arms were folded across her breasts. “Move over here, closer, Charlotte. Tiffany, I want you to take down her jeans,” mouthed Joel over his captive’s shoulder.
As Charlotte edged in, Tiffany’s fingers reached for the belt at her sister’s waist, sliding it through its holds. Joel took charge of the discarded length of thick leather, brain filling with all sorts of nasty ideas, watching intently as the buttons at Charlotte’s crotch popped open. The jeans were so tight that, despite wrinkling a little at each thigh, they remained more or less in place. “Pull them down,” he ordered Tiffany.
Tiffany tugged and the denims eased down in a concertina at Charlotte’s knees. They fell the remaining two feet, crumpling at her ankles to reveal a pair of angular legs. Joel’s eyes, however, were transfixed to her groin, covered in a skimpy blue thong. The feint outline of Charlotte’s pussy lips was visible beneath, whilst an unmistakable dot of arousal at the crotch betrayed her nonchalance. “Take off her thong,” suggested Joel matter-of-factly to his charge.
Tiffany baulked at the thought of touching her sister in that most private of places. Voicing his disapproval, Joel shifted, the knife providing the requisite encouragement for the frightened schoolgirl to hook her thumbs through the side strings. Tugging sharply, the thong fell away, exposing Charlotte’s cleanly shaven pussy Pink, plump and glistening lightly, Joel smacked his lips in appreciation. “Now turn around,” he ordered Charlotte. “Bend over and hold onto your ankles.”
Charlotte did as instructed, an exchanged glance with Jackie who looked back sympathetically. Charlotte’s tight arse mere a foot away, those plump pussy lips peeped back through her clenched thighs as a hint of female arousal clung unmistakeably to the air beneath Joel’s nostrils. Tiffany shifted uncomfortably, trying not to look at her sister’s buttocks.
Suddenly Joel raised his free hand. Tiffany and Jackie could both see that it gripped Charlotte’s belt, their eyes widening. The trio of backhand swipes took Charlotte by complete surprise, the leather stinging her buttocks numbly. Fortunately for the girl, with Tiffany on his lap, Joel had been unable to gain much leverage, three feint pink lines running from cheek to cheek. Moreover, he had spared her the buckled end – for now. Nonetheless, Charlotte shrieked, as much in surprise as pain. “That’s a warning, okay? If any of you steps out of line or disobeys me, it’s the buckle end, and I won’t hold back. Understand? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Jackie stood, appealing. “Leave these two poor innocent girls alone, take me, do anything you want…”
“Shut the fuck up,” barked Joel, causing Jackie to sit back down. “Now turn around sideways,” he directed, Charlotte shuffling around, the jeans still at her ankles. “Jackie, I think Charlotte could do with some pain relief. Get down on your knees behind her.”
Jackie glowered over, defiantly staying put. Evidently she’d decided this had gone far enough.
“Now what the fuck did I just say?” Joel boomed.
Losing his temper, he lashed out with the belt. This time the buckle end bit into Charlotte’s soft butt cheeks. She cried out in sheer pain. “Do as he says, please Jackie,” she begged in between bouts of sucked-in air, a series of red welts materialising on the cheeks.
Jackie stood to take up a position at Charlotte’s rear, staring straight into the younger woman’s pussy. “God, you’re sick,” spat Tiffany, wriggling in his lap and finding her voice at last. “You’re never going to get away with this, I hope you know.”
Joel smiled knowingly. Little did she realise. His own small inevitable death was well worth this ritual humiliation, the battle won even if the war was lost. “Enjoy the show,” he whispered in Tiffany’s ear. “I know I will.”
Jackie looked over, awaiting instruction. “I want to see you eat your stepdaughter’s hot pussy,” uttered Joel.
The clock on the wall told him that there were two hours of his life left to live, two hours in which to make these women pay terribly for their association with Mickey Standish. Two hours. Conceivably this could be the best two hours ever in Joel McCabe’s life.
Part 4 – the conclusion – follows sortly.

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