The Complaints Box

THE COMPLAINTS BOX

Apologies for He said, She said. I didn’t enter any tags, and upset some readers who were unprepared for the content.

I like playing with words, and this is another story where they are misheard. It could have gone in a few categories, but Group seems to fit best.

I’d better be clear, so readers aren’t upset again. There’s a wife. She has sex with other men. No revenge.

Sunday lunchtime

“Why don’t you pop up the pub for a couple of hours, sweetie?” said Beverley, “I’ve got this under control. If my parents get here early, I’ll send dad up to join you.”

The Blue Boar was warm, and James shrugged off his jacket when he saw the open fire. There was only one other customer being served; a heavy bowl of complimentary peanuts sat on the bar between of them. As the other man turned away, he caught the bottom of his glass on the edge of it, and beer sloshed out. A little goes a long way. James leapt back, but not quickly enough. It soaked his shirt and trousers.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok, I’ll live!”

“Please bill me to get that cleaned.” said the older guy.

“Not necessary, it’s only an old shirt.”

“But you’re soaked, at least allow me to buy you a drink.”

“I will thanks, a pint of Old Timer.”

“One more Old Timer coming up.” boomed the landlord. “Here, let me top that up for you sir.”

It seemed polite to join the man as he was so embarrassed, and they took their beers to a table near the fire.

“Rob McFarlane.”

They shook hands.

“James Ancoats.”

“Ancoats, Ancoats, I know that name.”

“Like the place in Manchester, where Lowry painted. It’s in an old pop song.”

“No, I’ve heard it at work. Do you work for McFarlane Pharmaceuticals?”

“No, but you’re making the right connection. My wife, Beverley, works in Marketing there. You’re the owner?”

“I am. Afraid I don’t recall your wife’s face though.”

“Hardly surprising, you have a lot of employees.”

“Over two hundred now and we started with just seven! Are you coming to our Christmas party next week?”

“I am. I understand you traditionally announce your Employee of the Year at this bash.”

“We do, but we don’t announce the winner of the Complaints Box.”

“The what?”

“Look, I’d like to make amends for your ruined shirt and trousers. No offence, but you’re starting to smell of beer now you’re drying out. So think of this as compensation.”

“Go ahead, I’m intrigued.”

“It started six years ago, with a simple Complaints Box. You know the kind of thing; messages left anonymously, management read them. Well from it, we effectively discover the worst employee of the year. Most of our personnel are female. So the board of directors and I came up with a rather naughty punishment for her.”

“Tell me more.”

“First year, there were a lot of complaints about one of the project leaders. Next, my own PA; too bossy apparently. Last year, I didn’t attend. Terrible flu.”

“There was a lot of flu around last winter. I got it, and also missed your party. So how do you punish these naughty girls? Surely you don’t humiliate them at the Christmas party, in front of their colleagues?”

“No. As you know, we research and manufacture drugs. And a few years ago we developed one, loosely based on scopolamine; used as a date-rape drug in South America. Ours never got licenced, but research is never wasted. The samples we produced are very potent and kept under lock and key. Slip one into a female’s drink and she’s effectively hypnotised.”

“Ah, I think I see where this is going.”

“So, the lady who’s had the most complaints. arrives at the Willow Tree Hotel and gives her name to the attendant, who loudly announces her arrival. Just like the grand events of years ago. That gives my top brass the warning that she is here. Our chap manning the punch bowl, hands her a cup of spiked punch. She has time to do some circulating, and thirty minutes later, she starts to feel confused.”

“Cool.”

“One of my chaps, keeping an eye on her, takes her out for some fresh air. Then reminds her she agreed to have lots of sexual fun tonight. She instantly agrees that’s the way she remembers it. She’ s persuaded she’s been looking forward to this for months. She willingly asks to be taken to a private room where she’s eager to act out her fantasies.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but what about her husband?”

“He’s been served a similar drink. He also gets to circulate for a while and is then taken to a side room to sleep it off. When we’ve had our fun with his wife, we wake him. It’s suggested he should take her home. He’s a bit embarrassed at falling asleep, so is happy to leave. His wife will assure him all is well.

“Sounds foolproof.”

“Never failed yet. The husband merely remembers having a good time before he got rather tired. The lady, of course, thoroughly enjoyed her experience, but will never to let on to her husband. So it suits her that her old man doesn’t recall much. She remembers everything, including being filmed, but is well motivated to keep quiet.”

“Wow! Where does all this excitement take place?”

“As well as the ballroom, and a couple of side rooms, we hire an upstairs suite for the night. The lady enthusiastically has sex with the board, and sometimes a special guest. I get first crack at her of course, droit de seigneur and all that. One of our directors is gay, and he does the filming. She’s very keen on oral, vaginal, and anal — even if she’s never done them before. In fact it’s better if she hasn’t; reinforces her desire to keep it from her husband.

“Clever.”

“The following Monday, her line manager has a meeting with her, points out the various complaints we’ve received, and shows her the video. She remembers what she did and agrees to be much better behaved in the future. We assure her there will never be any need to publish the movie. Happy ship again.”

“And she remembers everything?”

“Absolutely. She’s convinced it was it was all her idea, and we guarantee there will be no subsequent smirking or sneering from the men who took part. She rarely meets many of the top brass anyway. It’s a perfect set up. My top guys get their rocks off, a female employee has the time of her life, and an aggravating person turns over a new leaf. And for the record this is most certainly not rape. In the unlikely event this came to court, she would vehemently deny being raped.”

“And I guess you’ve got someone lined up for next week’s party?”

“We have. Married woman in Accounts apparently, been with us about five years and was recently promoted. I’ve been informed she’s started throwing her weight around and generally behaving like a bitch. So, if you’re up for it, I’ll tip the board off we have a special guest this year.”

“Count me in. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Secret for the time being old chap. Only the man serving punch and we board members know. When we have removed her from the festivities, we’ll pass the word around so only the invited few get to have their way with her. We discreetly take two or three at a time up at a time, so everyone doesn’t disappear at the same moment. Don’t want the other wives getting suspicious.”

“How many guys get a go with her?”

“The board, higher management, the miscreant’s line manager, and yourself. This year it’s around fifteen.”

“Wow! And anything goes?”

“Of course. She’s been yearning for a crude gangbang, not a romance.. She’ll love it. When you’re given the nod, slip away from Mrs Ancoats and go up to room 306. Make the most of it, your own fantasies can be indulged too. But, be warned, some of the chaps get carried away. That’s another reason I like to go first. Straight anal is sufficient for me, and I don’t care for sloppy seconds. Oh, and we blur out the men’s faces in the movie.”

“Well, thanks for the offer Rob. But I’d better go now, my father-in-law is here.”

Saturday evening

“New dress?”

“Of course. This is the event of the year. I’m so glad you can come this time.”

“Yeah, that flu put a dampener on everything last year. I’m looking forward to it as well.”

“Like the new undies?” She lifted the dress.

“Wow! Very sexy Mrs Ancoats.”

“The dress has quite an open weave, which makes it slightly see-through. So these new panties are silky and seamless. Flesh-coloured for that exciting, no undies look, not that anyone will be seeing up there. And, unlike tights, hold-up stockings leave no vpl.”

“Vpl?”

“Visible pantie line.”

“Why not go the whole hog, and just leave your knickers at home? I doubt you’re wearing a bra.”

“The dress is firm enough round the bust to make a bra unnecessary, so nobody will make out my nipples. But I draw the line at no panties. Remember that year I fell over on the dancefloor at your company’s do?”

“Tiny red thong, didn’t conceal a thing, just split the goodies in two. It was that incident that led to me suggesting you give your pubes a good trim. My sales department still talk about them!”

She grinned.

“It was an accident, one of your drunken mates bumped into me. And I slipped!”

“Yeah, so you keep saying. I love those hold-ups by the way.”

She turned her back and bent over, buttocks pointing at him, her dress still round her waist.

“Are those seams? Bit old-fashioned perhaps?”

“These seams are actually made up of tiny diamonds, and I’ll have you know they are the height of fashion. Actually, I’ve had them a while, they’re very expensive!”

She dropped the hem of the dress.

“Before we go, I want to tell you something. I know I’m down on the company’s books as Beverley. Some call me that, and some call me Bev. But the truth is I don’t like either of those names. They’re ok with my family but not at work; they’re so old-fashioned. I think being a Beverley might have held me back in the promotion stakes.”

“Surely not?”

“Seriously. So I’ve told my colleagues in Marketing that I’m changing it. I was going to make it my New Year’s resolution, but this seems a better time to begin.”

“OK, babe. What are you going to call yourself? I’ll go along with it.”

“You are a sweetie! I knew you’d understand. You’ll find out when I introduce us to the man by the punch bowl.”

‘Great.’ he thought. ‘I don’t know the name of the woman I’m going to fuck tonight, or the name of my own wife!’

The company preferred attendees to arrive within a thirty minute window, so there was a small queue in the Willow Tree reception. Beverley was in front of James, waiting for their punch.

“Sally Storks, and her husband Liam!” announced the attendant. He had a very loud voice.

“Sally Storks, wonderful name!” James whispered. Bev looked back over her shoulder.

“That’s his northern accent.” she whispered back. “Sally works in Marketing with me, and her name is Stokes, not Storks. Come on, we’re next!”

James had been to parties at his own company and always enjoyed them. Tonight’s would be exceptional. He could already see little black dresses, sheer black-clad legs, high heels, and heaving bosoms. Even from here at the entrance, there was an intoxicating aroma of expensive perfumes. Once inside, he also noticed the punch. It was delicious and obviously pretty strong. There was a free bar, but he wondered if he might be able to get another cup.

“What happens next babe? I’ve never been to one before.”

“Once the band starts up, we should dance. It’s kind of traditional that everyone has the first few dances with their partner. Last year there seemed to be a moment when everyone then abandoned their spouses and danced with whoever they fancied. But I can’t remember how we all knew. Never mind, it’ll come to me. I know you love dancing, but it would be bad form to hog me all night.”

“Can’t wait. I fancy all of them!”

She lightly punched his shoulder.

“You behave yourself!” she instructed. “And don’t drink too much.”

“Scared I’ll embarrass your work mates? Worried I might flash my undies like you did?”

“No. Actually I’m feeling horny, so I’ll be wanting you on top form when we get home!”

He and Bev had a couple of fast dances and then a slow waltz. She slid a thigh between his and pressed her crotch into him; he could feel the heat coming off her.

“Careful, your giving me a hard-on!”

“Yes I noticed. Seems Little James came to the party too! Perhaps we could nip out to the toilets for a quick knee-trembler!”

He squeezed her buttocks.

“Of course you’re feeling horny babe. No bra, hold-up stockings, and panties that are barely there. And I do mean barely!”

Despite his arousal, James found himself studying other women over Bev’s shoulder, wondering who the new Complaints Box star would be. She was recently promoted and worked in Accounts, but that meant nothing to him. He was tempted to ask her, but kept quiet.

The rules about dancing partners made sense now he came to think about it. Dance with your spouse for a while, and get asked to slip away after everyone started dancing with others. Neat. They sat down and got more drinks. Sadly the punch had now disappeared.

The music stopped.

“Ladies and gentlemen.”

Rob McFarlane was booming into a microphone.

“Before you all get too drunk to remember who it is, or who I am come to that, I would like to announce the Employee of the Year. No dramatics, or opening of envelopes. It’s Steven Wilding from R and D!”

Mrs McFarlane was wearing a dark wine coloured dress and looking very fit for an older girl. She handed her husband a plaque, obviously designed to stand on a desk. There was a round of applause and a blond man stepped up. He looked suitably embarrassed. They shook hands and he took his plaque, and the microphone.

“Encouraged by Rob’s admirable brevity – thank you.” Then he stepped back into the crowd. A beautiful blonde, clearly his wife, was waiting for him. still clapping. Another waltz started and Steven Wilding twirled her off around the floor. James hoped it was her who would be worst employee of the year. Unlikely though, she was a spouse, and might not even work here.

“That’s it!”

“What’s it, Bev?” James couldn’t be bothered to use her new name yet.

“The moment I was trying to recall. The presentation. The winner dances with his wife and then has to dance again with someone else, so does she. That’s the signal for the free-for-all. Now you get to dance with my colleagues’ wives. I know you’re bursting to!”

Somebody beat him to Steven’s wife, so James made a beeline for Mrs McFarlane. Soon after that, he was dancing with a petite foxy woman, who was deliberately vague about who she was there with. Wearing a wedding ring though, and she insisted on commandeering him for several dances. She kissed him on the lips when their last dance was over, and said she would see him later.

The lift doors sighed open, and an attractive woman was discreetly escorted in by two men. She was looking flushed. As it ascended, one asked “Looking forward to it?”

“I can’t wait!” she replied, and reached down and squeezed his crotch.

The suite had been arranged with a large table in the middle of the room. There were bright floor lamps shining down on it, and two cameras mounted on tripods. The rest of the room, a leather sofa, and a scattering of armchairs, was in relative darkness.

“Bad girls don’t deserve a comfortable bed. And I understand you’ve been bad.” said one of her escorts.

“Wicked.” she agreed.

“Take off your clothes darling. Put them on this chair.”

“She’s ready for you now Rob. You’re first, as usual.”

“Thanks Mark. I’ll get back downstairs when I’m done, and send a couple more up.”

He stood behind the woman, who was face down across the table.

“Good evening Lianne, I’m Rob. I’ve understand you’ve been a naughty girl!”

“I have. I hope you’re going to punish me properly!”

“I’ll have a quick dip in your vagina, just to lubricate, then take you in the anus.”

“Oooh, yes please!”

The bright lights shone on his dick, and the cameraman zoomed in. It was dry as slid into her vagina, but wet and glistening as it came out. The woman eagerly pulled her buttocks apart for the anal assault. The lights reflected on the lubricant in, and all around, her anus. There was a lot, and she was going to need it.

Rob rammed it all the way in and she squealed with pleasure. He pounded roughly in and out of her arse and she grunted with each stroke, clearly loving every minute of it. Soon he was grunting too, as he climaxed deep inside her. He withdrew, and the camera closed in as the first trickle of semen dripped out, and began its journey towards the floor. It wouldn’t be the last, and her tiny hole would soon be getting larger. Rob went to the bathroom to clean himself up.

As he left the suite, he saw one of the directors lying in her place on the table. Her vagina was stretched as she straddled over him, kissing him passionately. A second man was standing behind them, opening her arsehole.

“How do you like double penetration?” he asked. “Only I won’t do this is you don’t like it.”

She raised her head from the guy’s face and turned: “I love it, do it hard!”

Back in the ballroom, Rob spoke one of the senior managers: “Her husband taken care of?”

“All in hand. Someone took him into a side room. How’s our Complaints star doing>”

“She’s having the time of her life. But they always do, don’t they?”

As the hours passed, the action got increasingly hard core. There was barely a moment when at least two of her orifices weren’t fully occupied. She licked and sucked everything, no matter where it had been. And the semen was now oozing past her vagina, and soaking into her stocking tops.

There was a pause in the proceedings while two men sat down to get their second wind. They were single, so no-one was waiting for them down in the ballroom. They’d done all this before and were determined not to leave till they were sated. Ten men had fucked the woman so far, most of them, twice, almost exclusively up her arse. There was now semen squirting out of it with each new assault.

She had cleaned many of them up with her mouth and her breath wasn’t smelling so good.. A few participants had yet to appear. Some preferred sloppy seconds and had expressly asked to be called late, still manoeuvring for an opportunity to escape from their wives.

Now, a guy was sitting in a chair and she lowered her cunt onto him. There was a black guy waiting.

“God, it’s running down her legs!” he said.

“That’s what happens when you wait two hours before taking your turn, Henry.”

“Couldn’t get away from the missus.”

Henry opened her up.

“Your cunt is busy, I’m gonna have to fuck your arse!”

“Good. I’ve been waiting ages for a big black one up there. Make me scream!”

James found himself at the bar, disorientated and suddenly thirsty, so he ordered a pint of lager and downed it. Feeling rather tired, he studied the dancers He thought he could make out the back of Bev’s dress and seamed stockings on the far side of the floor. He realised he had an erection.

“So when do I get invited upstairs?” he muttered under his breath. “They must have started by now. Fuck it, it’s supposed to be a gangbang, I don’t need an invitation!”

He took the lift to the third floor

James entered the suite and took in the scene before him. There was a table bathed in light. Lying on it was an old fat man, with his heels up, and his arse out over the edge. The woman, naked except for tan stockings, was bending forward and giving him a blowjob. Another man was pistoning in and out of her arse, and grunting like a pig. As James got closer, he saw the woman was now sucking the fat guy’s balls and fingering him.

He approached and stared at her arse. It was the first time he’d witnessed anal sex up close, and he marvelled at the river of cum, running down both her stockings.

“She’s had few then!” he remarked.

“Damn right. This is my third time. She must have about forty loads up there by now. Well, I say up there, it’s nearly reached her feet now!”