Mycroft squirmed as the object (dildo, wrong shape for a butt plug) was slowly and carefully pressed into his body. When it grazed his prostate, he gave a full-body shudder and whimpered in pleasure. It feels so fucking good, so good….
Then hips nudged against his upturned buttocks and he momentarily stilled in surprise. Wriggling backwards, he detected leather fastenings across her waist and thighs. A strap-on!
Firm, leather-covered breasts flattened against his damp back and strong arms encircled his middle. "Mycroft Holmes," she sighed into his shoulder before biting it. "Said to be the most brilliant man in England. Smarter than his brother Sherlock. I know all about you. Have you deduced yet that I'm going to fuck your arse until you wonder where I've been all your life?"
Mycroft wasn't shocked that she knew his name. But Sherlock's? Was she a friend of his younger brother's or, worse, an enemy? Then something occurred to him: Gregory's given her a script. Told her what to say. Of course.
"You think someone's written me a speech, don't you?"
What the hell?
"I read you like a newspaper, my boy. As to how I know your brother: you'll soon find out. But right now I'm going to ride you like the whore you are. Imagine that- the great Mycroft Holmes, stuffed with cheap rubber cock and loving it- while his partner watches."
Mycroft's chin lifted sharply, making her laugh.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Lestrade is viewing all this on camera as we speak. Let's give him a show, shall we?"
She drew back before slamming several inches of hard silicone into his tight passage. He grunted loudly and nearly fell onto his stomach. After taking a second to reorient himself, he spread his legs and arched his back further so that the next thrust hit his prostate.
"I know where the sweet spot is," Irene chided. "But you couldn't wait, could you? Fucking slut!"
She bit him again, this time on the neck. Mycroft sighed and surrendered to the pleasure-pain. He'd worry about the source of her information later. Irene was clearly a society member, and when this was over, Gregory could give him enough information for a background check. Right now Mycroft wanted Lestrade to see how much he was enjoying himself.
When Irene thrust into him a third time he pushed back and rotated his hips. He heard her gasp, and smiled around the gag. Felt good against your clit, did it? Without giving her a chance to collect herself, Mycroft ground against her more intensely. He felt her thighs tremble and her nails dig into his chest.
"Oh, you clever boy," she choked. "Are you trying to top me from the bottom?"
Irene growled and pounded into his slick hole repeatedly, pausing every now and then to let him rub the dildo base against her groin. He imagined what he must look like to Gregory right now: collared and cuffed, face pushed into a wet bath mat and a fit, aggressive woman plunging deep into his arse with a strap-on.
Arousal made him daring. When Irene drew back for another thrust, he reared up, throwing her off. Hearing her fall onto her back, he swiveled around on his knees, straddled her slim hips, and lowered himself onto the bobbing dildo, taking care not to apply his full weight against her much smaller body. One of her hands grasped his waist as he bounced, while the other closed around his straining cock.
"Oh, you are creative," she gasped. "Too bad you're not mine…. But my helper is learning a lot right now."
So am I, Miss Irene.
Mycroft rode her hard, grinding against her clit, while she jerked him off and yelled obscenities.
"I'm almost there, you slut. Who ever thought the great Mycroft Holmes could be stuffed with so much cock and still please a woman?"
When orgasm hit her, she screeched and rubbed her slick thumb over his cockhead with just the right amount of pressure. At the same time, her assistant knelt behind him and again applied a familiar touch, this time to his nipples. A few skilful pinches and twists and Mycroft came too, moaning as he imagined what Gregory must be seeing: thick bursts of ejaculate splashing heavily onto Irene's leather covered breasts and stomach. Maybe he got some on her face too- he'd have to ask if he could see the tape afterward.
Once again she intercepted his thoughts.
"Mr. Lestrade will probably let you watch the tape in the morning. But right now, let's ask your brother what he thinks of your performance."