English Gangrape of Irishwomen

[IrishBrute]

Kathleen O’Reilly and Sinead Kelly were delighted! They worked in Dublin in the creative department of British-based advertising firm Houghton and Jenkins, and had just been given the opportunity to present at head office in London a new conception for marketing computer software. It was the chance of a lifetime; if they could really impress their British bosses, who knows, maybe promotion to London could follow, and with it a distinct improvement in their good if hardly spectacular salaries.

Kathleen and Sinead were almost like sisters, though otherwise very different. They had known each other since college and had stayed in touch over the years, until the elder, Kathleen, helped secure Sinead a job at the firm in Dublin’s d’Olier Street. Kathleen was very much so ‘big sister.’ Aged 35, a single mum, Kathleen was a striking woman: 5 feet four inches tall, possessed of a gorgeous expressive face, rich lips, broad brown eyes, perfect bone structure, endowed with luscious brown hair that framed her face and bounced along her shoulders; she was well-stacked with big, firm breasts, narrow torso and broad fertile-implying hips, fine buttocks, and graceful, shapely legs. While always respectable, she knew how to maximise her attractiveness – expert in make-up, perennially wearing v-neck silk blouses, tight-fitting hip-hugging ass-encasing skirts ending at the knee or tantalisingly above it, sheer hose or bare legs, and always, always, high black stilettos which perfectly accentuated the shapeliness of her legs, the breadth of her hips and the pout of her ass. When she walked, she glided through rooms or down corridors, her ass swaying gently from side to side, breasts bouncing – but never outrageously. When she sat and crossed her stunning pins, while creasing her legs together so as to flash her perfect calves at the viewer she also made a statement of false modesty by hugging the hem of her skirt to her knees, or as close to them as the skirt allowed. She had a lovely voice, a kind of motherly, calm, confident expression, at once intelligent but warm, and a very engaging girlie laugh. She was well educated, practical, sensible, loved the good life, but was well aware of her responsibilities both to work and to her son. Her superiors adored her, her colleagues respected her – she was firm but fair, helpful, but also very much so in charge.

Sinead was very different. Age 29, currently single and with no kids, she was much more inexperienced in life and naive, very much so looking up to Kathleen. She was a stunning Irish redhead: 5 feet, six inches tall, with a beautiful fresh-faced complexion dominated by alluring bright blue eyes and a permanently friendly expression. Her body was in some respects even better: a slightly bigger chest which she liked to show off a bit more blatantly than Kathleen, fine arse and hips, and fantastic legs – though her paleness compared to Kathleen’s natural tan caused her to wear black tights almost constantly. She was less interested in fashion than Kathleen, preferring looser, ordinary skirts – her main asset she knew was her fabulous chest. Sinead was a lovable person, not stupid but definitely more light-hearted than Kathleen, more open and trusting, more devil-take-care, always up for a laugh and fun, more flirtatious – a kind of typical Irish redhead. Men wanted to fuck Sinead but to be dominated by the more sultry Kathleen.

The two girls were well briefed by Dublin branch boss Myles O’Callaghan on how to win the British over; this deal would make a fortune for the Dublin branch. These two Irish hotties would hopefully melt English reserve. This was Sinead’s first big assignment and she wanted to do well; Kathleen was full of self-confidence, as usual. After a night in London’s Dorchester Hotel, they were driven by company car to Houghton and Jenkins headquarters, and waited patiently in the lobby. They were told they were meeting the Big Guns: the board, but also some of the owners including Charles, the son of George Houghton, the aristocrat whose great-grandfather had founded the firm back in 1872. Both girls dressed well for the occasion. Partly to advertise her Irishness, Kathleen wore a gorgeous bottle-green suit, light jacket, shorter-than-usual skirt ending two inches above the knee, and black stilettos; she disdained hose or tights on this occasion, feeling quite confident that flashing her stunning bare legs would help to impress! She also wore a silk, almost transparent v-neck white blouse, while underneath had on lacy French knickers and bra. Her wavy brown hair and soft-touch make-up completed the apparition of Celtic beauty. Sinead made a bigger effort than usual for her this day: a purple dress suit zipped up at the back, deep v-neck, the folds gently flowing looser down her thighs, hem three inches above the knee, and very high stilettos, the whole capped off with transparent black tights. The English security guards exchanged silent winks at each other eyeing up these two Irish lassies sitting on the lobby sofa, legs crossed, the hem of Kathleen’s very tight skirt running way up her thighs.

The girls were sent up to the boardroom and entered, to be met with the rather intimidating sight of eight men, most of them crusty and late middle aged staring at them intently. After a few seconds, the ice broke, and all engaged in pleasantries and introductions. Obviously, the men were rather – physically – impressed by the Irishwomen, and quite a few winks and grunts passed between the men. Kathleen led the first half of the presentation, looking poised and cool, professional to a fault, showing slides and ads, gesturing firmly with a stick. To be honest, most of the men were more focused on her than the screen, staring appreciatively at her firm stance, the spread of her legs, the pointiness of her stilettos, the bulging size of her chest, the stunning shape of her legs, the toss of her auburn hair, while no one could but be stunned by the flash of her beautiful smile which ignited her face. They also were struck by her charming Irish lilt – a soft not harsh Irish accent, at once innocent and seductive. Sinead carried the second half; she did well but fumbled at times, a little overwhelmed by the occasion, sometimes giggling, but drawing huge sympathy – as well as physical appreciation – from the Englishmen in front of her. Kathleen sat motionless, cross-legged, watching Sinead intently, silently urging her on, silently mouthing what Sinead should be saying. In the process of crossing her legs way up her thighs Kathleen gave a very nice view to twenty-two-year-old Charles Houghton who stared at her legs, as did his Oxford mate George Billingdon; Kathleen, noticing this, smirked a little and dropped her legs to the boys’ disappointment – before crossing them again in the opposite direction, hearing faintly grunts from the aristocratic lads.

The presentation concluded. The girls were warmly applauded and congratulated, though the decision to accept or reject the proposal they were told would take about a week. As the girls departed, Charles Houghton rushed up to them and asked if they were interested in meeting later with him and a few colleagues for drinks. Yes of course, the delighted Irishwomen responded; they were told to come to the Olympic Hotel at 7, the hotel being part-owned by the Houghton family.

The girls arrived on time and were sent up by security to the 4th floor and entered a large reception room well stocked with wines, good food and luxuries. Two doors opened and emerged into the reception area six men: Charles Houghton, George Billingdon, and four others, two of them personal friends of the chaps, James Mackay and Francis Hawke aged 21 and 22 respectively, and two older men whom the girls recognised from the afternoon’s presentation, John Ormsby aged 48 and Philip Townsend aged 53, respectively in charge of the firm’s creativity and accountancy departments. The girls felt a bit put off by the older men’s obvious hauteur and ‘Oxbridge’ manner which they rapidly found condescending: “Dare I say, grand performance earlier girls, didn’t know you Irish could carry it off”, and “Quite fetching lassies aren’t you, hope ye gals aren’t good Catholic girls what!” The younger lads were much more informal and down to earth, two of them quite handsome to boot. Everyone sat down and engaged in conversation as servants passed around drink after drink and little dishes of food. The girls got quite comfortable, Kathleen sandwiched between Charles and George, Sinead – unfortunately for her – practically trapped poor girl by the increasingly lecherous older men. All were attracted by Kathleen’s smouldering beauty, her mature physicality, her poise and self-confidence, noticing a faint lisp; her laugh was startling. Most of all though, they loved her legs, being crossed and re-crossed, hem gushing way up her rich thighs, the beauty of her flesh set again her Irish bottle green suit. All were equally turned on by Sinead’ freshness and seeming innocence, her youthful beauty and flaming hair. When together for a few moments, the girls giggled and winked at each other – good night in the offing etc – though Sinead did looked a bit pissed off when Ormsby just had to press down hard on her thigh when he struggled to get up to relieve himself.

The sexual atmosphere increased amidst the haze of alcohol, cigar smoke, and the several joints the younger chaps smoked which they passed to a reluctant Kathleen and a delighted Sinead. “Come on girls, party, don’t Irish girls love to party?” Charles put his arm around Kathleen. Sinead was getting wild now, Ormsby patting her thigh, whispering in her ear. He was encouraging her. Gradually Sinead got up, to whoops of joy from the lads. Kathleen watched a little concerned as Sinead began dancing, lost in her own reverie, as the lads whooped and clapped rhythmically over and over and over. Sinead moved, gyrating, clapping, grabbing her dress, sweeping it up a little, exchanging glances, flirting, revealing more and more leg; Charles began whispering in Kathleen’s ear. Kathleen felt uncomfortable now, but then again she was in the presence of her superiors, and in particular the son of her ultimate Boss. She ignored him fingering her thigh, then her calf, the other lads staring at her – and perceiving her powerlessness. Mackay began stroking her other thigh. Gradually, both chaps began opening her legs wider, wider, slowly, almost imperceptibly pulling her hem back too. All six men were being aroused by Sinead dancing like a dervish and Kathleen being interfered with. “Come on love, come on Kathleen, get up and dance with your sister!” Kathleen got up, not least to escape the hands of these arrogant Englishmen.

Kathleen, reluctantly, began dancing with her sister, pretending to enjoy it, putting on a fake smile, gesturing with her arms, and shaking her booty, evoking catcalls that were both sexual and increasingly vulgar: “Oh yes, fine arse love”, “Yes, Christ, what a body”, “Go on, lift the skirt too luv, let’s see your arse”, and then “Fucking MILF, Irish fucking MILF!!!”

“Ah yes, Bob is here” exclaimed a quite drunk Townshend, as a burly waiter, obviously called Bob, came in with a video camera. “Record now Bob and don’t fuck this up ok.” “Yes sir” replied Bob, who knew his bloody place in the world. Fine Irish cunts he thought to himself. Party for the ‘officers’ he thought to himself, but at least he could watch some right juicy brute force inflicted on some paddy lassies. Kathleen felt extremely uncomfortable now, being filmed doing this, degrading herself for these bastards, and her patriotic spirit was outraged with the following comments: “Show some Irish bush girls”, “My grandfather did disdinctly harsher things with his Irish maid”, “Dance better for us paddy, come on, put your Catholic back into it now!” Kathleen and Sinead drew closer, as male hands reached forward and started sweeping up their skirts, Kathleen slapping Charles for pinching her bum – but he pretended not to mind. Bob recorded well, very well, for he was rather enjoying it too, his camera paying particular attention to Sinead’s bouncing boobs (a button had burst!) and Kathleen’s quivering shapely legs.

“Start playing with each other!” ordered Ormsby in a very aristocratic tone, as the young lads whooped at this command. Bob pushed Kathleen forward onto Sinead. All gasped! “Come on, or you’ll suffer you bloody Irish bitch” said Towshend in an extremely menacing tone. Kathleen knew she had to obey. It was dangerous now, but what could they do – these were their bosses, and anyway they were trapped. “Feel her arse” came a command. Kathleen began feeling Sinead’s arse, much to the surprise of a drunken Sinead who didn’t really know what was going on. Sinead smiled an embarrassing smile. Thinking it was just a game of dare, she heard the command “Feel Kathleen’s boobs” and she laughingly did so, causing Kathleen to shudder in horror as the men all yelped like hyenas. A button burst, exposing some of Kathleen’s gorgeous white bra and cleavage, evoking yet more whooshing and jeering.

Finally, Kathleen had enough. Boss or no bosses! She stopped and turned to them, exclaiming in an angry Irish shrill voice, “Enough is enough, for fuck sake, you cant treat us like this!” Silence. Then Orsmby shouted harshly, “Fuck you, you little Irish bitch, you’ll do precisely what we want!” “I think the young men here need to break the bitch, and make her a better servant!” Greedily, the four young lads, the Oxford gang, set upon Kathleen, grabbing her violently and throwing her on the floor. Sinead suddenly came awake as it were, froze, and was promptly pinioned onto Ormsby’s lap, watching in utter horror this assault on her friend. Kathleen was thrown down, skirt yanked up, as the lads began ravaging her, yanking her skirt up to her waist, ripping her blouse apart, feeling her juicy legs, mauling them, ripping the bra off and squeezing her boobs, licking savagely, cursing,. Kathleen fought hard, kicking, punching, screaming, cursing them, “Ye English fucks… get off.. get…” but was overwhelmed. “Yes fight, fight you Irish cunt” exclaimed Townshend, puffing on a cigar. Bob leered in, recording Kathleen’s gang-rape. The lads began unzipping, taking out cocks, hollering, “You’ll love this you Irish bitch.” Her panties were pulled apart, her hairy cunt punched and penetrate by hands, her breasts bitten, and then Charles got inside and fucked her, and rocked away, using her hair as leverage, smothering her face in kisses. Kathleen kicked and kicked, but her legs were held firm, and by trying to squeeze her legs to eject Charles from her privates she only excited him all the more, making his penetration of her deeper, deeper, deeper. He banged her head off the ground repeatedly, fucking and fucking her and finally came… “Well done boy, well done” was the acclamation as Charles got off her. George Billingdon was next, arching Kathleen’s legs high and wide, kissing and sucking her vagina before raping her and slobbering and sucking her tits. A crying Sinead watched helplessly, sitting on Ormsby’s laugh; he whispered words of reassurance, while sliding his hands up her dress, feeling her black tights and legs, eventually sweeping up to her black panties and fingering her bush – “There there, Paddy, there there.” Kathleen was in utter agony, her body mauled, almost vomiting with disgust at her humiliation and the close stench of sweat as the lads were all over her, the camera shoved right in her face, Mackay wanking his erect cock on her leg. After George came, Mackay jumped on her and rocked her to and fro while Francis bent down and ejaculated onto Kathleen’s face. Then after Mackay came inside her, Charles bent down and walloped Kathleen’s face. Then he walloped her again. Kathleen was broken.

Hatred now mixed with perverted lust! As Katheen squirmed on the floor, ravaged and sobbing, Ormsby became more violent rubbing Sinead’s tights and legs. All noticed. With a collective will, they approached Sinead, Ormsby raised her up, and quickly her legs were spread wide, her dress hiked up to her stomach, and Ormsby rapidly pulled down her tights, revealing tiny black panties, which were swiftly yanked down to her ankles. Wolf whistles mixed with greedy hands running up and down her shapely pale thighs and calves, fingering and feeling her big black bush, penetrating, widening, sticky wet fingers then returning to her pale thighs and calves. Sinead was held, motionless in her alcoholic stupor and crippling sense of horror, staring at a weeping Kathleen staring back at her, their eyes locked together in mutual recognition of their awful predicament and a sense that… it had just begun.
Aroused grunts rose from the men, taking turns rubbing and feeling Sinead, whispering “Irish cunt.” Then Ormsby, taking charge, said “Right, now a little punishment I think.” He took charge of Sinead and collapsed on the floor with her, as the others spread her legs, flung themselves on her and Ormsby raised her arms back stretching her and thrusting her bosom in their faces. Savagely, George simply ripped open her dress, exposing a massive black bra. That was quickly ripped off her, and multiple hands squeezed her fine tits and George began sucking them whole, biting gently, licking her nipples, sucking, and feeling her torso at the same time. George whipped out his cock and slowly, slowly, penetrated her vagina, staring intently and with evil grimace at a petrified Sinead, forcing himself inside her, staring intently, watching for whatever expression she gave; as his bulging cock crept deep inside her Sinead finally cracked and screamed, sobbing, and George replied with a smile and then a laugh; the others cheered too. He pumped and pumped, using her big boobs as leverage, back and forth, back and forth, and then furiously ejaculated inside her, screaming a triumphant roar!!!

“Bit of fun now lads, bit of fun with the prisoners” exclaimed a surprisingly calm Ormsby; the younger lads were vicious, ‘up for it, while Ormsby and Townshend were like calm masters of the ceremony. Ormsby gestured at Kathleen and gave a wink wink – the lads knew what that meant. The younger lads raised Kathleen up, shouted in her face “Do this bitch”, and brought her over to Sinead. Kathleen’s skirt was yanked down to its proper place, her bra was picked up and put back on, her hair rather cleaned up. “Must look your best luv” said Charles. “Now get down, and suck her off!” Kathleen refused, sobbed again and tried to get away but was easily restrained. Everybody laughed, a few hollered. Kathleen again refused. Charles, frustrated, reached under the tablecloth nearby and whipped out a knife. He grabbed Kathleen with one hand, and stroked the knife up her skirt with the other. Kathleen uttered horrific protests as she felt the cold blade glancing off her calf, then her thigh – before it got any higher she uttered “Ok, yes, fine… whatever you want.” Claps all round. “Good colleen cunt” replied Charles. Kathleen ‘voluntarily’ bent down and moved near Sinead, whose legs had been widened and whose arms were held back by Ormsby. Sobbing uncontrollably, shaking with fear and disgust, Kathleen pressed her head between Sinead’s legs, zoomed in, and began licking her bush. “Go on luv” “Deeper”, “Eat her out.” Kathleen did so, sticking her tongue inside Sinead’s privates, deeper, then deeper. To give her encouragement, the younger lads patted her fine arse jutting in the air, the lads mesmerised by her pert buttocks in tight skirt, the creaking sounds of her high heels as she lunged forward deeper and deeper inside Sinead. Sinead looked up to the ceiling, trying to ignore what was happening. “Enjoy it enjoy it.” Townshend, stroking his cock, exclaimed at Kathleen, “Grunt, grunt like the good Irish pig you are.” “Go on do it do it do it” from the younger lads. Kathleen’s arse was slapped, then kicked. Finally, she did it… She grunted, like a pig, while more forcefully sucked Sinead’s vagina, bursting into tears while doing so, and then grunting, grunting, grunting. The lads hollered, whistled, clapped, and then shoved their feet onto Kathleen’s arse, driving her deeper into a Sinead who now burst into tears as well. Kathleen and Sinead were rocking now, rocking, Kathleen grunting. Charles in the excitement bent down, grabbed Kathleen’s arse, lifted up her skirt, licked her arse, pushed Kathleen fully onto Sinead; Townshend grabbed Kathleen’s arms and forced her hands onto Sinead’s boobs. It was hysteria now. Charles took out his cock and raped Kathleen’s arse, reaching down and squeezing her bra, ripping it off and savaging her tits while raping her arse hard and deep – while Kathleen nearly suffocated inside Sinead’s vagina. After Charles squirted inside Kathleen’s arse, George quickly took his place, rocking Kathleen wildly, stroking her torso and her tits, while fucking her arse deeper than Charles had. Claps! Cheers! Hoots! Then he got off. Now Townshend got up and pulled Kathleen off Sinead onto the floor on her back. The young lads, knowing what to do, stretched Kathleen’s legs, yanked her skirt up to her waist, held her arms behind her back, as Townshend dragged Sinead over and threw her on top of Kathleen. Her face fell into Kathleen’s privates, and Townshend drove his boot into Sinead’s arse. “Suck her, paddy cunt!” Sinead reluctantly, cryingly, did so, sucking fast and hard to escape further punishment on her arse.

She had no idea what arse punishment really was.

Townshend unzipped, whipped it out, stroked off for a few seconds, and then bent down, and forced Sinead’s arse. Sinead screamed, Kathleen shouted “Jesus Christ Nooooo” as Townshend pummelled Sinead’s butt. Townshend shoved Sinead’s head, up for a few seconds of fresh hair, hard into Kathleen’s privates and fucked away. He came. Ormsby, took a little whip also hidden under the tablecloth, and stood before Sinead’s arse which the lads politely arched up for him. He flogged. Sinead yelped. Then he flogged again, and again, and again. The lads clapped in unison, rhythmically like tribal worshippers, flog, whip, whip, whip, as Sinead’s arse was lacerated. Finally, Ormsby bent down, ripped her buttocks wide apart and forced it in, a good few inches, causing Sinead to nearly stop breathing for a few seconds so overwhelmed was she physically and mentally.

After that, all took a break, cheering, clapping, and then smoking joints and drinking wine as the girls were left broken on the floor, sobbing and trying to cover their modesty with what was left of their clothing. “Right lassies, some more fun” said Charles. The older men watched as the four young ones got to work. Kathleen and Sinead were picked up, and slapped in the face, hard. Then they were dragged down again. Charles spread Kathleen, and raped her pussy, face buried in her tits, really enjoying this solo rape for a few minutes, stroking Kathleen’s shapely legs (high heels left on), sucking her tits and her face, really really enjoying fucking this youngish Irish MILF. Then, with a signal from him, the lads brought Sinead down to the back of Kathleen’s head. Sinead was punched and told “Play with her, you know what to do cunt, you know…. play with her.” Sinead did so, stretching her hands out and playing with Kathleen’s boobs as Charles continued to fuck away, slowly, taking this one easy. All watched eagerly as Sinead rubbed and squeezed Kathleen’s tits. “Do more, come on luv.” Sinead obeyed, dropped her head down and began kissing, licking, sucking Kathleen’s tits and nipples. All stopped, even Charles stopped fucking, watching Sinead almost, almost seeming to enjoy this masturbation of her female friend. Sinead looked serious, as she played expertly with Kathleen’s bosom, softly squeezing and kissing, a few tears though betraying her true feelings. Even more remarkable, they noticed that Kathleen was seemingly responding to Sinead’s masturbation of her; her legs twitched, her lips moved, she even licked her lips a little, and grunted a little. In truth, Kathleen – involuntarily – had been aroused, and this tender, friendly sexual act subconsciously seemed a blessing compared to the ravagings of before. Both women were also almost catatonic, not really fully self-aware.

“Ah they both want it!” snarled Charles. In seconds, Charles and George grabbed Kathleen, now suddenly fully self-aware and horrified, flipped her over and Charles began rapidly, violently raping her arse while George lifted up her face and stuffed his cock between her lips. He stretched her face wide, forcing his cock deep down her throat, “Suck it Irish cunt”, while Charles, competing in brutality, squeezed her tits almost dry while driving his cock into her innards. Kathleen nearly passed out with the pain, the unusual brutality of this double rape, grunting like a pig with long moaning deep grunts of extreme physical and psychological distress, and then George pulled out his cock and unleashed gush after gush of cum on her face and hair. Then Charles unleashed a flood of cum inside her ravaged rectum before getting up and kicking her. Sinead was picked up by Mackay and Francis, tossed about like a useless doll, and thrown on top of the table face down. The older men helped out in this. Sinead’s head was pressed down onto the table, her legs arched up high and wide till she could barely breathe, and Townshend stuffed his face into her arse, savagely licking and then fisting her arse, driving his hand in deep, widening her rectum “Washes her bum good lads”, before reaching up and fucking her arse at the most penetrating angle possible. It was savage, disgusting, and so awkward that he burst in cum in a few seconds, before dropping Sinead onto the floor. Mackay gave her a good kick in the stomach, causing Sinead to vomit.

All were exhausted by now, including the rapists. More joints and wine, George in particular was shaking after his physical exertions. The girls were shattered, extremely sore in their privates, their mouths completely dry and devoid of taste. Sinead was the more catatonic of the two, Kathleen more conscious; she was in a state of almost suspension of belief such had been the ordeal over the past hour or so – the physical pain, the utter degradation, the oppressive feeling of total helplessness in the face of a gang assault, a repetitive and grotesquely varied gang assault at that; the constant references to nationality and racial humiliation by these proud English motherfuckers only added to the horror and shame of it all. She was too shocked, too sore, too stripped of self-respect, to even cry anymore.

Crouched on the floor, oblivious to the men apart from hearing mutterings and laughing, Kathleen then heard the unmistakable sound of liquid flowing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ormsby standing upright, calmly pissing on Sinead, the piss running over her head and onto her ruined dress. Her eyes widened at this… this… final act of sheer contempt. Ormsby turned to the others and said, “Anyone for Irish toilets?” In the corner sat Bob, his camera drooping; he had run out of film long ago, but had captured some right good fuckin’ footage – he had also ruined his pants with several ejaculations, but hadn’t bothered to care. He watched as his social superiors finished off the Irish cunts. They came over, around Sinead and Kathleen, dominating them by their complete physical mastery of the area. Unzipping, laughs, winks! Piss began dribbling out, pouring out, all over Sinead and Kathleen. The girls didn’t bother to protest. Just accepted it. Kathleen was so thirsty she was almost grateful – her mouth opened as trickles fell down from her hair and face and then a few shots of piss aimed accurately into her mouth. She licked her mouth – the piss was good moistening.

After that, the lads dressed themselves. Bob was ordered to take care of the camera and the footage and was then dismissed. They all left. A few minutes later, a few men and women in medical outfits came in and did what they could for the girls, followed by a sinister older gentleman who explained to them what they must say in Dublin, why they should never be so foolish as to report this incident, and to ensure their obedience he flashed some of the footage on a mini camera to the recovering girls’ horror. For final insurance, he paid them each £10,000 each. He politely informed them that the men had found the girls “capital Paddies” and would not show the footage to anyone else provided they kept quiet.

The girls went back to Dublin and tried to get on with their lives. After a few weeks, word came through that London Head Office finally accepted the Dublin proposal which, the communiqué said, had been “professionally and quite brilliantly presented” by them. Furthermore, the communiqué announced that it would gladly offer the girls employment at Head Office in London. Dublin branch boss Myles O’Callaghan was quite surprised and shocked when Kathleen and Sinead absolutely refused.

The Englishmen kept their promise not to circulate the footage. Point of honour and all that! No way such a fine piece of film should end up on “rotty youtube” anyway. However, they did keep it for occasional private screenings, over cigars and port, amongst themselves and other members of an old exclusive gentlemen’s club titled "Association for British Rights to Ireland".

[mugger]

Superb story Irishbrute, keep them cumming lol