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Danielle and Jack took turns in the cramped shower of the ship before getting dressed for supper. Thankfully, the first night was casual so they did not have to get too dressed up. They playfully rubbed their bodies together as they moved about the cramped cabin. Jack escorted her by extending his elbow as they walked through the ship toward the dining room, checking their map to make sure they were headed in the right direction. People were engaged in many different activities within the ship. Different types of music could be heard from the various clubs that were located along their route.

Their room passes indicated to which dining room and table they were assigned. A maître d’ escorted them to their table which was near the windows on the port side. Counting the chairs they could see that that their table would consist of four couples, included themselves. Two of the other couples were just arriving as they got to the table. They introduced themselves and took their seats. She tried to memorize their names before the others arrived. Everyone seemed friendly and in good spirits so dinner looked to be very enjoyable. The waiter flirted with the women and treated everyone like royalty. Peeking at the menu, the food choices looked amazing. The fourth couple arrived shortly after they were seated, filling the round table.

Everyone at their table came from varied backgrounds with stories that she found to be fascinating. The first couple with whom they spoke were school teachers from Ontario, Canada. Their names were Bridget and David Henderson. They had done a lot of traveling all over the world during their summer break. Another gentleman and his wife, Dr. Steven and Dr. Julie Keller both held PhD’s in anthropology. They specialized in the Mayan culture and enjoyed coming to these places to see new things in their field of expertise. They knew of some ruins, deep on the jungles of Belize that most tourists didn’t get the chance to see. The ritualistic world of the Mayans fascinated Danielle as the Kellers spoke. Danielle secretly hoped that she could travel with the anthropologists to see what they would see. The anthropologists were from Chicago where they were part of the University faculty. The third couple was retired and loved to vacation on cruise ships. Joan and Earl Smith lived in south-central Florida and would often book a last-minute cruise at reduced fares. They already had another booked for shortly after they returned from this cruise. They announced that this was their forty-seventh cruise. The choice of appetizers, meal and desert were fabulous. A few bottle of wine were added by the couples. The table conversation was filled with excitement about the coming days and the delight of getting to know new people.

The meal ended too soon as the dining room began to clear out for the next group of diners. They all wished one another a good night as they went their separate ways.

“Would you like to check out the show in the auditorium?” Jack asked as they walked through the crowds on the ship.

“Sure,” she replied not wanting to miss anything.

“We’ll be heading on a journey onto the island at 7:00 tomorrow so we should probably get to bed early,” he said.

“Really?” she asked. That was the first she had heard about any excursions.

“It’s part of the plan that we have prepared for you,” was all he offered.

His comment snapped her back to the reality of his adventure game. She was so in the moment at dinner that she almost forgot that they were more than just casual guests on the cruise ship. They went into the theater along with what seemed like half of the ship’s passengers. They were lucky to find bench seats in a back corner where they sat waiting for the show to begin. Danielle was already feeling a little tired after the big dinner and a couple glasses of wine. She rested her head on Jack’s shoulder as they relaxed. He placed one arm around her and they cuddled in their seats. It felt nice and the absence of armrests made it easier to be close.

When the overly cheerful voice of the cruise director interrupted the din of the crowd they both became more alert. He introduced the ship’s band and singers who tried their best to be professional. There were some good voices but the lead singers seemed to shriek into their microphones a bit too often. Jack began seducing her as the performers danced and sang. His hand was on her thigh, making her hot as he stroked her upper leg under her dress. They both were getting amorous and had already started to make out like teenagers so they left for their state room before the show ended.

They walked hand in hand through the ship, passing by the pool on the open deck. A movie was playing on a huge screen above the pool and people were scattered around the deck in their loungers. Jack laid Danielle down on an empty lounge chair and sat beside her as they checked out the movie. Once he started kissing her, they knew it was time to return to the privacy of their room. When they arrived in the suite, Jack unzipped her dress and pulled it down over her shoulders. He slipped her bra straps down mecidiyeköy escort over her shoulders next and slipped her bra from her breasts. Bending over he suckled her left nipple. Devouring her he threw Danielle onto the bed where she bounced on her backside. Removing his own clothes he leaned over her on his hands and gazed into her eyes. He could tell that she was excited. He reached down to remove her panties. His fingers tickled on her waist as he slipped them inside and slid the silk underwear smoothly down her slender legs and off over her feet. With grace and expertise he leaned his face above her groin, placing his mouth over her vagina. His warm breath felt erotic before he began stroking her clit with his tongue. She opened her legs to allow him better access as she moaned and raised her mound to help him get better penetration. He slipped a pillow under her bottom to keep her pussy elevated.

“You know,” he said, “Being on this ship reminds me of my sailor training and all the useful knots that we practiced and learned for the boat.

Straddling her body she watched as he looked around the room for something. When he didn’t see what he was searching for he swung his leg over her and got off the bed. He opened the closet and pulled the terrycloth belts from the two plush bathrobes hanging there. He walked to the head of the bed where there was some structure resembling a headboard affixed to the padded wall. He was able to thread the belt from the robe behind the half post where he secured it. He took her left hand in his and held it above her head while he prepared to wrap the belt around her wrist. Tying what seemed like a complicated knot he slid the loop over her wrist, and then proceeded to slide the knot toward the wall, pulling her arm tight. He took the other belt to the other side of the bed as she watched in anticipation. The gap was tighter on this side of the headboard making him need to force it through with a pen that was on the night stand. He bound her right side to the bed, leaving her laying helplessly o the bed.

“It’s a good thing these belts are thin enough to fit through there. I’d never get a rope through. Do I need to bind your feet too? He asked in a manner that she wasn’t sure was kidding or serious.

She shook her head, no. There was a tray of fresh fruit with a chocolate sauce displayed prominently in the little table across the room. He took the platter and brought it over to the bed. Holding the platter in his left hand and the dish of sauce in his right, he looked at her mischievously as he began dribbling the chocolate sauce into her navel. The sticky dip felt cold as it pooled on her skin. He took a strawberry from the tray, and then set it on one end of the tray. Placing it between his teeth he dipped the end of it into the chocolate in her navel then brought it to her mouth. She bit the end off as she looked into his eyes. He ate the rest then took a piece of pineapple from the tray and fed it to her in the same manner. Jack shared the sweet treat with Danielle in her mouth as he fed the last half into her mouth with his tongue, then lingered. He moved down to dip his tongue into the chocolate and smeared if over her nipples. He then sucked the chocolate from all around her areolas, cleaning her. The last bit of dip was deep inside her navel. He took care of that with his tongue as she squirmed with delight on the bed.

He climbed back on top of her and kissed her on her mouth. Using a very light tough he stroked his finger nails across her breasts. The sensation was pleasant and painful making her squirm. She would have blocked him if her hands were free. He continued to tease her with light touches from his fingers and tongue. A shiver ran through her body as he played with her inner thighs. He kissed her all over while getting her more and more aroused. He reached up to the headboard and slid the knots down to loosen the tension in her arms.

“Roll over, luv,” he instructed as he helped her over onto her stomach. The belts crossed over at the headboard. “Get on your knees while keeping your forehead on the bed.”

He helped her up by lifting her hips. He ran his hand over her bottom then slid his finger between her legs to stroke her clit from behind. His hand suddenly landed a stinging blow on her butt cheek. He felt her quivering opening and ran his finger through her growing wetness.

“You like that, don’t you?” He said as he spanked her again on the other side.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied with her mouth almost pressing against the sheets.

He spanked her a few more times. She could feel the heat on her stinging bottom as he toyed with her.

“I understand that you need more anal stimulation,” he said, catching her off guard.

Danielle remained silent. The remark caught her off guard. She wasn’t sure where he got that information but it may have been related to some of the questions she had answered during one of the psychological evaluation. She did in fact have some curiosity about that.

“Hold still and I’ll be right back,” beşiktaş escort Jack told her as he left the bed again.

She tried to watch him as he opened a flap on his suitcase that stood against the wall. He pulled out a tube of something and a string of beads that went from small at one end to quite large at the other. It was wider than his clenched hand so she could see only the beads sticking out on both ends. She had never seen anything like it. She knew that she was about to learn more shortly. Without saying a word, Jack applied a strawberry-scented lube to the string of beads. He knelt behind her and began to apply more of the lube to her pink anus. The gel felt cold but she enjoyed the feel of his finger as he encircled her tight opening.

She gasped when she felt the pressure of the first bead against her tender anus. He increased the pressure until her star opened enough to allow the smallest bead to pass into her. With continued pressure, she felt the first bead move inward as the next larger one opened her anus a bit more. She shivered at the unusual sensation of being stretched and penetrated like this. She felt more lube being squeezed from the tube directly onto her opening. She shivered again. The scent of strawberry grew stronger. He continued feeding the string of anal beads into her body. Her opening quivered involuntarily as he kept sliding the ever-larger beads into her. She could feel his thumb pressing against her opening with each bead. She could feel the volume of beads inside her as they filled her rectum and lower bowel. He stopped only when he had the entire string inside of her. A loop of some sort was all that hung outside her body. Her opening had closed after the largest bead had passed through.

“How does that feel, Danielle?” he asked as he traced his fingers over her buttocks.

“Very different,” was all she could think of to say. “I feel like I need to go to the bathroom.”

She did feel a certain glow about her bottom as Jack had gently exposed her to something entirely new. She remained still as she savored the strange feeling. It wasn’t painful but it wasn’t like anything she had ever felt before. He placed his hands on her hips and slowly rocked her back and forth. The motion made the beads shift inside of her. She could imagine how they were shifting inside of her.

Suddenly, she felt Jack’s weight on the bottom of the bed, then his body against hers. His member was hard and throbbing as he guided it into her wet cunt. She moaned followed by a deep moan from him. He pounded his body against her bottom driving her head into the pillows at the top of the bed. The beads were squeezed inside her. Her body lurched forward with every thrust he made. She could feel him growing harder and bigger just before he released into her vagina. She screamed softly as she came too. Her head was now pressed against the padded headboard. She relaxed her body from the straining of the intense sex and exhilaration under his weight. He took her in his arms and climbed into the bed beside her. She felt content to be in his arms. He held her tightly as he lay with her on the bed. He slipped the restraints from her wrists as they both collapsed in the bed together. She couldn’t take her mind off of the beads as she lay otherwise content in his arms.

Finally she asked in a hushed tone, “Sir, may we remove the beads now?”

“Do you think it’s time?” he responded. “I was thinking you hadn’t experienced the full effect yet.

“Please sir, I don’t think I can rest with the feeling that I need to go relieve myself.”

“Okay, since you asked so nicely.”

She felt his hand between her cheeks. He suddenly took the loop from the beads and steadily withdrew them in one constant motion. She felt relieved. He wrapped the beads in a tissue and tossed them aside. They rested together again until they fell asleep.

The alarm clock woke them both from a sound sleep when it went off. They were still naked and cuddled in the bed. Jack got up first.

“Okay Daniele,” we have exactly ninety minutes to get ready, have some breakfast and get down to the deck for departure. Dress for a trip through the jungle. Wear cool clothing because it’s going to be hot. We’re going off with the Kellers to explore some of the more unknown Mayan ruins today. I have a driver hired who will meet us and take us deep into the middle of the island where few tourists get the chance to go.”

Danielle was excited to get to see the historical sights on Belize although she had heard that the scuba diving and snorkeling along the reefs was one of the greatest treasures that Belize had to offer. They passed several dive shops among the other tourist souvenir stands. Getting a private vehicle with expert guides was unbelievable too! She quickly showered and got prepared while Jack showered and got dressed. They ran up to the buffet for breakfast. There was everything imaginable but she was so excited that she didn’t have a big appetite.

“Better have a good breakfast,” Jack warned her. “It may be late before etiler escort we get the chance to eat again.”

They hurried down to the Gala Deck to head down the gangplank to the pier that would lead them ashore. They had their pictures taken as they proceeded to the gates that led to the port city. There were groups of people gathering for shore excursion. Inside the gate many locals were trying to sell their taxi services. Jack spotted a man holding a sign with Jack’s name. They walked over to the man who had his Land Rover parked beside him. The doctors, Keller arrived within minutes. They all made introductions and exchanged pleasantries as they all settled into the SUV for the trip inland. The anthropologists looked as she expected with their boots and cameras strapped around their necks, wearing comfortable clothing and carrying maps and a camera bag.

The driver spoke English well since it was the official language of Belize and seemed to know exactly where he was going. He also loved to talk. He accelerated hard as they left the port city toward the mountain roads that led into the jungle. The driver narrated everything as they sped through the jungle. He especially liked to inform them of the dangers hidden within the jungle. Jaguars, snakes and insects were among his favorites. He always looked at their faces for their reaction to his stories. It was difficult to discern the truth from the fiction. He didn’t seem to mind when overhanging tree branches crashed against the front of his vehicle and windshield. Bouncing out of their seats was a common occurrence on the badly eroded dirt roads. The driver only slowed to cross a stream or when climbing a steep hill.

It was only a matter of minutes before the drive had left the port city and they were in among thick stands of trees and undergrowth. The city was not very big and jungle covered most of the island. The driver explained that the Mayan ruins to which he was headed were some of the oldest, yet not very well known due to their location. It was much more convenient to show the ruins that were close to the coast to the tourists. Visitors typically liked to climb up the huge steps and look at the gargoyles that were carved into the details of the temples and monuments. The ruins that he had in mind were built in the early reign of the Mayans and were more elaborate and well-preserved than others where tourists were allowed to climb on the stone. Because of the jungle shade, there was much moss on the stone structures, adding to their character.

After about as much bouncing around in the Range Rover as she could take, they reached a spot where the driver stopped and shut off the engine.

“We’re close,” he said, “We’ll have to go on foot from here.”

They all climbed out of the SUV onto a lush carpet of moss that spread along the ground in the clearing. Heavy underbrush lined the edges of the meadow with trees and vines encroaching on the clearing. There was a slight rise that led them to a cliff. When they reached the top of the rise they could see an enormous pyramid below that was becoming closed in by trees. It was immediately obvious how huge and elaborate the structure had been. The rock was mostly still intact with green moss clinging to the stone in the shade. Places where wooded structures had once stood were open above the remains of their foundations.

“You can follow the path down to the Mayan ruins from here,” the driver said. “I will remain with my Rover. Be back by 2:30 so I can get you back to the port before your ship leaves. Don’t be late!”

He turned and walked back to the SUV.

“Okay then, let’s make our way to the temple,” Jack announced as the party of four began their hike. “We’ll explain what we’re doing here as we walk,” he said to Danielle.

She got the distinct feeling that she was the only one who was unaware of the plan. The scenery was breathtaking but now Danielle was wondering what else was going on. She still couldn’t contain her excitement at rediscovering the ruins that were slowly being reclaimed by the jungle.

“As you may have already figured out, Danielle, we are here as part of the mystery fantasy game to help you experience another one of your deep and dark fantasies. The doctors are here to advice on how the ancient Mayans did it. When we get to the temple at the top of the structure, you will see that the altar has been cleaned up and prepared just for you. We are going to reenact how the Mayans sometimes used humans in their sacrificial ceremonies. Have no fear, my dear, they seldom sacrificed humans. The Doctors Keller will explain more as we head to the temple.”

The group was just reaching the base of the impressive structure. Danielle could see the odd faces carved of stone. Some of them appeared to be laughing at her. Others grimaced as if in pain. The steps were much taller than she had first imagined. She thought that the early Mayans were relatively short people yet each step in the staircase to the top was more than three feet tall. They climbed the front of the pyramid where the stairs were nearly fifty feet across. When they reached the end of the staircase there was a large flat top on the structure. In the front and center stood a stone altar, a rectangular slab that was placed on two cut stone supports. She looked around from atop of the pyramid. She could see nothing but jungle in all directions. The tree tops implied that there were rolling hills beneath the canopy.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Karen flipped open the compact and grinned ghoulishly. She wiped away an errant splash of lipstick, a particularly sparkly pink, and popped her lips. The reflection moved up to her eyes. Eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow. She had the whole crew working overtime this morning, but they didn’t look to be up to the job.

Eduardo had insisted she stay with him, and this early in a relationship, she knew better than to act like a prima donna. She had wanted to go home, of course. She was getting too old for this nonsense, but she was also getting too old to walk out. Sitting there on the vinyl stool, bathed in the red light of a neon Coors sign, she had smiled gamely at Eduardo’s idiot back-slapping with his fellow barflies and had even faked a smile when he insisted they all down some ridiculous flaming shot before heading home. Cooing and moaning as was to be expected, she had waited on all fours as Eduardo flailed around behind her, grateful when he finished with a spittly “Oh fuck yeah. Fuck yeah.”

Now it was damage control time. A decade ago, she could have emptied a bottle of tequila and been fucked raw in a club bathroom and still looked ready for the runway by breakfast. Now the eyes looking back at her were surrounded by baby crow’s feet, each little crevice telling a story of falling or failing, pieces of her cut away by the sharp grit of life, cruel little shards one after another from the men in her past, leaving dark, empty spaces that could never be filled again with any amount of cosmetics. Her baby blues, the ones whose giddy twinkle had once reduced so many swaggering young men to wide-eyed finger puppets, had become roadside gravel, their youthful shine clouded by the unwashable build up of thirty-five years of dust and filth.

Depreciated. That was the word. She had plenty of difficulty with most of the accounting concepts Jimmy had been trying to teach her, but that wasn’t one of them. She was living it, straight-line depreciation from homecoming queen to Eduardo. She’d even made a lame joke about it during one of the afternoons he had been spent immersing her in debits and credits. His reaction had been fierce. Physically grabbing her, something he never did unless it was an after hours session, he had launched into a harangue, defending her, imploring her. Do not ever allow yourself to be defined by somebody else’s bullshit, he’d said. You are wonderful, Karen, he’d said, you just need to have more faith in yourself. No one since Rodrigo had talked to her like that. She had wanted so much for him to kiss her then, but he hadn’t.

She put the compact back in her purse and swiveled in her chair to look behind her. Through the frosted glass, she could see the soft, fuzzy outline of Jimmy at his desk. He had arrived early today, had hardly said hello as he’d walked past the front desk and shut the door. Not even a request for coffee. And the other thing, well, it had been three weeks since he had touched her. It had never been that long before, with him or his father. She pulled out the compact and checked herself again.

The phone on the desk beeped twice. She pressed a button. “Good morning, Jimmy.”

“Hi Karen. Can you come back here? I need you to scan something for me.”

“Sure thing, Jimmy.”

She walked back to the office. She rapped twice on the door, and his father had taught her, and opened it slowly. Jimmy was seated, crouching over the giant oak desk, one hand signing, the other hand flipping from one page to the next. It had been two years, and she still couldn’t get used to seeing him there. She had first met him, eight years back, in her first week of work. She thought he’d been a tenant, a college kid in a backwards baseball cap, coming by to explain why the rent money had been spent on beer, but he had bounded right by her, without a glance, and opened the door to the office with an enthusiastic, “Pops!”. She had hurried into the office and found the kid hugging her new boss. “Karen, this is my son, Jimmy. Jimmy, our new receptionist, Karen.” Jimmy had given her a lopsided smile and padded over with an extended paw.

Now he was the man behind the desk. The goofy college kid was long gone, but with his slim build and his tousle of blonde hair, he still looked out of place behind the ponderous two-ton relic of carved oak. Marv had ridden astride that desk, his prodigious bulk pushing up the ceiling, his glare forcing the walls into retreat. He had a laugh, loud and full, that would send pigeons wheeling into the air. His joy became your joy, and when he was delighted with you, you were delighted with life. When she had fucked something up, which wasn’t uncommon, especially early on, his voice had boomed, a thunderclap across the office, warning of a tirade to come, one that inevitably would leave her in tears.

Jimmy wasn’t anything like Marv. Where his father growled at life, daring it to challenge him, Jimmy smiled at it, trying to coax it to his wishes. The office that had once strained taksim escort to contain his father’s thrashing stood bemused at its quiet and good-natured new occupant. The bluster and cigars had been replaced by dimples and a dorm fridge full of Gatorade. The only time she ever saw any of Marv in Jimmy was on the rare occasion when the subject of boxing came up or when he came to her with his wallet open.

Looking at the desk, she remembered the first time. Of course, Marv had fucked her on every side, angle, and surface of the desk. He had been heavy and none too nimble, but he had been very imaginative about contorting her so he could use the desk as support. He had been a man of his generation, a man who learned sex when porn was still hidden in grimy theatres, the internet was science fiction, and BDSM was just four random letters. He undressed her, fucked her, and paid her. He was enthusiastic, and she always enjoyed it, but it was as vanilla as could be.

She had found Jimmy in his father’s chair. They had closed the office for the week, but she had come up to change out of the heels into the boots she kept under the desk. The snow had fallen heavily during the funeral, and the buses were out of service, so she had resigned herself to walking. He was spinning the chair slowly back and forth. His eyes were red, and his blonde hair shot out at painful angles.

“Jimmy, are you okay? What are you doing here?”

She had felt stupid the moment she said it, but then what could you say at a moment like this that didn’t feel foolish. Forty-eight hours before, she was wishing them well, ushering them out of the office, have a great night, enjoy the fights. Jimmy had been a Golden Glove star, like his Daddy twenty five years before, and the Friday night fights were their thing. They’d get a steak at Tomasino’s, bullshit about everything under the sun, cheer dizzily for the neighborhood kids, and then talk the fights over a cocktail. Same thing every week. And as every week, after they said their goodbyes, Marv would stop at the corner bodega on the way home to grab some fruit for the next morning. Except this time, as he reached for a bag of clementines, some little piece of something came loose from somewhere, tumbled through his bloodstream, and got caught in his aorta. His knees buckled and his hands shot out for support. His arm caught in the hanging scale, pulling it down with him, as he tumbled forward. It clattered on the ground. Ding. Ding. Ding. Fighters, back to your corners.

“Hi Karen. I just came by to…I don’t know…I didn’t know where to go.”

She walked over to him, unbuttoning her overcoat as she went and laying it on the desk. Her black dress was long and flowing, the top cut maybe a bit too low for propriety, but then, she didn’t have any proper funeral wear.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Jimmy, sweetie, you shouldn’t be here. Go home.” She touched his cheek. “Get some rest.”

Jimmy let out a small, choked laugh and smiled through his tears. “I’m not sure you should call me ‘sweetie’ any more, since I guess I’m technically the boss now.” The words set off a little convulsive cry from his chest, and he tried to swallow it.

Karen smiled weakly at the joke. She could feel her own eyes starting to burn. She knelt in front of him and put her hands on his knees. She whispered, choking. “Jimmy, I loved your Dad. He was a great boss, a great man, but you know, so are you. I have watched you grow all these years. You dad was so proud of you, and I know I will be happy working for you too.”

He looked at her. Oddly, she thought. Then she noticed his pants. He had sprouted quite the collegiate erection. He saw her look, and his face went red.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You just knelt down, and you were so nice, and I couldn’t control it.”

She almost had to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then she had been on her knees under this desk before. Marv used to love getting a blow job while talking to contractors. He said it gave him power over them. She would kneel under the heavy oak frame of the desk, like a bunny in its dark, little hutch and wait for the meeting to start, then undo her blouse so he could her tits. She always waited until the meeting was in full swing to unzip his fly. It became a game for her to see if she upset his composure, while being otherwise silent. She tried different approaches. One time she held him in her mouth like a popsicle, just using her tongue to massage his shaft, while she reached into his pants to grab his balls. The overall lack of movement apparently drove him crazy. He couldn’t speak at all for the last thirty seconds, and when climaxing, he painfully drove his knee into the top of the oaken frame. The contractor clearly thought he was dealing with a lunatic. Marv had given her an extra fifty dollars in appreciation for that particular effort.

The memory made her smile inwardly. Well then, topkapı escort let’s make it a toast, here’s to your dad, she thought, one for old time’s sake. She put her hand on Jimmy’s swollen crotch. He moaned in soft surprise. It felt like he had a couple of inches on his pop. She undid his fly and pulled out his cock. It was smooth and rock hard in her hand. Harder than Marv’s aging cock and harder than Eduardo’s drunken one. She put her lips on its tip, kissed it, then lifted it up and ran her tongue on along the bottom of the shaft from his balls back to the tip. His body stiffened in response, and his hand slid into the rough, permed curls of her hair. She opened her mouth and took him in whole, her fresh pink lipstick smearing along the base of his cock. She paused there for a second, letting her tongue tickle along the shaft, then put her fingers around the base and began the mechanical up and down she had learned so well. Like a metronome, one of her high school girlfriends had advised, and they had all giggled at the time, but she still found herself visualizing back and forth, tick tock, up and down, keep the rhythm, keep it tight.

Marv had always sat back during these sessions, his hands on the arms of the chair, hardly making a sound. He’d give her an occasional “That’s it, honey” or “Just like that” but little more, until a low guttural moan signalled an oncoming climax. It was a fragile business, his old cock, too fast or too slow or even an ill-timed ringing phone could start to deflate it, so she had learned to keep a nice, steady pace (and forward all calls to voicemail).

She fell into her practiced rhythm with Jimmy. His fingers worked into her hair, his hand massaging her head, occasionally holding her close to him for longer than was really comfortable. Now he reached down with his other hand, slid into into the top of her dress, grabbing her breast tightly. She gasped. This was not Marv. He pulled her head more roughly to him, pinching her nipple at the same time.

“Stand up.”

His voice had changed. The weepy tone was gone. There was an edge, a flash of sword in his words, and she did as he asked. He continued to hold her nipple as she rose, and then he stood too, pinching the nipple harder now. Pain began to bite.

“Jimmy,” she pleaded.

He placed both hands on the cups of her dress and yanked. The fabric held firm for a moment, then split, the ripping sound, so insistent and rough, loosening her, awakening a heat. Her tits were out, full and pulsing. He kissed her hard on the neck, one hand tightening on her breast, as he pushed her back against the desk. He grabbed her hair again and pulled it to the side. She yowled, turning, succumbing to the force and direction. She was facing the desk now, and he bent her over. He pushed her down firmly, her arms splayed out to the side, turning her head sideways. She was completely prone. The cold surface of the desk flared goosebumps along her exposed breasts. She looked back at him. The dimples were gone. His eyes were still red-rimmed but the blue had turned to steel. She had seen that pitiless power before, when Marv had skewered a councilman or incinerated a wayward contractor, and now the son turned their frozen brilliance on her.

He lifted the long, black swooping dress, throwing the fabric up onto her back, exposing her, opening her further. She felt her panties pulled down.

Lightning struck. There was no forewarning, no gentle massage. Her panties were still mid-thigh, but his tongue was inside her, his thumbs on either side of her, pulling her open, allowing him to explore deeper. Her breath caught. Goddamn, she thought, this is certainly not Marv. Then his fingers were on her clit, making small, delicate circles, each one sending a bolt of pleasure up her middle.

He continued to stroke her, his fingers rubbing across her pussy, wiping wetness along her thighs and back to her bottom. She cried in surprise. His tongue was in her ass now, wet and warm. One hand continued to tickle her clit and now the other played around the edge of her ass. She could feel an orgasm beginning to build, and she whimpered at its approach.

She felt him stand behind her and heard his belt buckle rattle against the floor. He smacked her ass.

“Who’s your boss, Karen?”

“You are, Jimmy.”

“That’s right.” He slid into her vagina, and she heaved, tightening to embrace him. He leaned over her, put his hand in her hair, grabbed her sweaty curls, and pulled her head back. “And what are you?”

“Your secretary.”

He spanked her again. She moaned. These were not the impotent slaps of an Eduardo, trying to will his burro get up off the ground. These were the smacks of a warrior, leading his steed to battle, sword raised. She felt taut wires running from her head to her ass to her pussy. They were electrified, and her body trembled.

“What are you?”

“Your employee.”

Another beyoglu escort slap, this time on the inside of her thigh. Heat coursed up her side, and she bit her lip.

“Wrong again. I guess I’m going to have to show you.”

He reached over and took her arm, guiding it back across her back. He rested her hand near her bottom.

“Stick your finger in your ass.”

“No, Jimmy.”

Another slap. Open palmed and fierce. Her ass blazed. He pushed himself deeper into her, forcing a deep sigh from her lips. He pulled at her arm and grabbed her middle finger, extending them towards her hole. She relented, allowing him full control. Yes, he could fuck her ass with her finger. The dirtiness of it made her shiver with pleasure.

“You do it, Karen. I want to watch you put your finger in your ass.”

His words made her burn. She touched her asshole. She could feel the sharp edge of her brightly painted nail slipping into herself. Her hips begin to rock as an orgasm rose in volume.

“In, Karen, In!” He took her hand and pushed her fingertip, forcing into her ass. He held it there. He began to fuck her more steadily now, driving her finger back and forth to match his thrusts. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, this was not Marv.

“Push it in deeper.” She did as he asked, pushing her finger into herself She could feel his cock now, just on the other side of the flesh, pistoning, pushing the wall of her vagina back into her finger, unleashing something wonderful. An explosion tore through her.

“Deeper still”. Her whole finger was in her ass now, as far as she could reach. His hand was wrapped around hers, forcing the finger deeper still, while the other hand stayed twisted in her hair, controlling her, guiding her as the waves of orgasm throttled her body.

He was spanking her now. One cheek then the other. Controlled, controlling, hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to damage. “Don’t you dare take that finger out.” His speed was increasing, the power of his thrusts forcing her thighs into the corner of the desk.

“I’m going to come on your ass, Karen. And you are going to use that little fingers of yours and push it all inside you. Do you understand?” She moaned her assent. The filthiness of it set her on fire. Her ass and pussy were still sending waves that tossed her body helplessly.

He pulled out from her. He grabbed his cock and rubbed. A hot shot of cum splashed on her hand, dripped down on her fingers. Another shot landed on her fingertip, another splash right on her asshole. A final bead landed on her ass and dripped down the back of her thigh. Karen rubbed her fingers in the hot stickiness and began pushing it into her ass. Her body roiled with pleasure.

“Do you see what you are now, Karen? You’re mine. You’re not my employee or my secretary, you’re my property. My whore. Do you understand?”

She could barely nod. She collapsed back down on to her knees, her head and arms resting on the desk, its coolness welcome against her hot cheek. Her legs still trembled. He leaned over behind her and kissed gently her on the shoulder and again on the side of her neck. She turned her lips to him, but he pulled away.

He buttoned his pants and stepped back from her. The eyes softened, and a wistful smile creased his face. “Thank you for that, Karen. I guess I needed it.”

She stood and moved to him, the flaps of her torn dress hanging down by her breasts. She ached for a hug, a gentle kiss to accompany the words.

He stepped back again. “I know you had a thing with my Dad.” She stopped short. “Some kind of arrangement. This,” he spread his arms, “this was incredible, and I was wondering, I don’t know, if maybe we could do something similar.”

His words punched her, knocking the air from her lungs. You’re my whore. And why did she dare think otherwise? Rodrigo had said the same thing. No, that wasn’t quite right. He’d said, you’re a whore. You’re a fucking whore, Karen. Pain welled up inside her, not the hot, searing pain she had welcomed just seconds ago, but a dull, cold ache, the same one she knew from so many gray, hungover mornings since he’d left. She offered a brave, thin smile. “Of course, Jimmy. That would be great.”

He pulled out his wallet, counting out three hundreds. He passed them to her. He took out one more. “That’s for the dress. Sorry.”

She held the same, thin smile. Held it for as long as it took to get her coat on, to hug him awkwardly, and to hurry out of the office, her boots forgotten. Marv had always left $200 on her desk the next day. Now she was getting three. I got a raise, she thought. A muffled cry escaped her lips, and tears started to stream down her cheeks. She walked home through the snow, the snow burning against her exposed ankles, the wind streaking her tears across her face.

“Karen.”

His voice brought her back. She could still feel the cold in her feet. He was holding out the stack of papers.

“Scan it and email to me. I want the lawyers to take a final look at it.”

She took them numbly.

“Thanks, Karen.” .

Three weeks, she thought. She touched her hair. “Is there anything else you need?”

He looked up at her blankly. “No, nothing now. Maybe some coffee when you get a moment.” He turned back to his computer.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Disclaimer – This story is fictitious, and narrated about a fictitious world with fictitious people. Situations depicted in this story cannot happen in real life. ‘Ludlovian’ is a fictitious city on a distant planet with remarkably Victorian sensibilities. Enjoy.

*****

Before Miranda was born, her pregnant unmarried mother met and married Gary Redman. Mr Redman married Katherine Jameson for her wealth, and also to give her child a name. At first, after she was born, Gary treated Miranda relatively well, not really minding that she was not his child. However within 2 years of the marriage, Nancy Redman was born, and within another year, Trevor Redman, the heir, came into their lives.

With each birth, Gary’s treatment of Miranda deteriorated. He never hit her, but he yelled at her for the slightest things. Katherine hit her under the guise of a mother disciplining a child, but she never hit the other two as she did Miranda, though of course, she did as well. Nancy was a baby who lived to play rough and she pushed, prodded and physically fought with Miranda as siblings were wont to do. No one minded, least of all Miranda. It was just two girls playing, but Miranda learned early on that she was not to fight back.

When Nancy lashed at her, pulled at her hair and clothes, pushed her around, she learned not to retaliate and to take it with a smile. If she hit back at the baby, Katherine would beat her, telling her she was not to hit at her sister. Gary ignored it all. And when Trevor was born, the same rules applied, though he was not as aggressive as Nancy.

Miranda grew up submissive and quiet, taking everything doled at her with a serene, accepting smile. Unfortunately, she didn’t know it but that was to be her life story…

Gary Redman had inherited the family business, Jameson and Redman Holdings, from Katherine’s ailing father. Miranda had been sixteen and a well bred genteel lady fit for the conservative Ludlovian Society. She didn’t know it, but this submissive young lady had only a few more years left to serenely and innocently smile at her high society peers.

The business was not doing as well as expected so the day Miranda, much prettier than Nancy, turned 18, Gary had a little talk with Katherine. Since he was not her biological parent and he really had no feelings for Miranda, his plan made sense to him. Katherine, who did not like the constant reminder that she had been indiscreet before marriage, liked being wealthy, liked her clothes, shoes and home. And they had a daughter to marry off at a later date as well as a son – currently at boarding school – whom they wanted the best for. They wanted to leave him an inheritance.

So Katherine signed over Miranda to Gary to do with as he pleased for his business.

Gary in turn, hired a man known as Mr. Lowman. Gary never had to touch Miranda – he had no idea to. He didn’t touch whores. Which was what Miranda, uncomplaining, became at 18…

On the day of Miranda’s 18th birthday, there was a little party at dinner to celebrate. Gary and Katherine informed her that she was considered an adult now. As was the custom of their culture and with a lifespan of 125 years, adult age was 25 but girls were considered mature enough to marry off at 21 – least they became spinsters by the old age of 28.

In a society in which the genders kept to strict social conduct and genders did not mix except in balls geared to hunting a bride or groom for marriage, approaching adult age was a milestone to be proud of. If things had taken the normal course, Miranda’s coming out ball would have taken place when she was 19. But this is not the normal course of things and therefore, her tender age was an occasion to celebrate.

There was cake, ice-cream and music. Miranda, innocent in the ways of the world due to her delicate upbringing and seclusion, danced and played as did her sister, Nancy. She was introduced to Mr. Lowman, the only stranger among the festivities. But apart from her smooth smile in response to the middle-aged, shortish, balding, not unhandsome man, Miranda ignored her father’s business companion.

The party lasted two hours and as it wound down, Katherine took her daughter aside to the quiet of her bedroom. Miranda had been moved to a new wing the previous week on account of her approaching adulthood. Miranda was the only occupant of the new wing and Katherine gave the excuse that she (Miranda) must be craving some space to herself. The walls were sound proof, the halls spacious, and the only room that Miranda was familiar with was her own bedroom and attached bath.

There, Katherine told Miranda first about her origins, that she was not Gary Redman’s daughter. This was not a shock to Miranda as she had suspected that. Katherine didn’t know who her father was as she had not gotten the man’s fatih escort name when he’d visited on business so many years ago.

Then Katherine told her about a man and a woman, about their body parts and what they used it for. She told Miranda, naturally submissive Miranda, that she had to obey every man who came to her. She guided the young girl to strip off every stitch of clothing she had had on to reveal a body that was nicely developed at the tender age of 18.

Her exact parting words to Miranda were, “Remember, my dear, obey at all times. They would not hurt you, but you must obey. Your stepfather would come to you now and instruct you further. Lie down on the bed.”

When Miranda reached for her robe, Katherine hastened to stop her. “Unclothed Miranda. You are a woman now. You don’t need clothes when you are alone with men. You must let them touch you and use you as they like. And you must enjoy it, my child. Do not hold back your enjoyment of the feelings they bring to you. Now lie down.”

Naively believing her mother since the woman had homeschooled her and she had not seen much of th world as was the privilege of a high society girl, Miranda saw not much wrong with her mother’s guidance. Seriously considering her mother words and committing them to memory, Miranda decided this must be normal. She had obeyed everyone in her life anyway, so obeying was not a problem. She lay down on her red silk sheets. When she tried to cover herself with her blanket, she was stopped once again.

“No Miranda, you must be presented nude to them. No covering. Now, spread your legs.” A little hesitantly, she spread them wider until Katherine was satisfied and her toes pointed to the corners of the bed. “Always keep your legs spread, Miranda, when not in a social setting. And do not move until a man tells you too. You are to be used by men now and they want you always obedient and ready. Now your arms.”

Miranda lifted her arms above her head and lay them at the head of the bed as she did her feet. She was splayed in an X form by the time Katherine gave her approval and left to fetch Gary and Mr. Lowman. Within the hour, Katherine and innocent Nancy was away to the city of Givens on the other side of the country, to spend the month at a friend’s ranch.

When Gary entered Miranda’s room, he barely spared her body a glance. He ushered in Mr. Lowman who took position on the left side of Miranda’s bed. Wide eyed, and a little shamed at her nakedness, Miranda watched both of them nervously. Standing to her right, Gary began in a soothing but stern voice.

“Miranda, you have been told that you are not my child?” She nodded, too nervous to speak. “Then you must agree that I was very generous to raise you as my own these 18 years. Now that ends. You will not call me ‘Father’ any longer. I am not your father. Call me ‘Sir’ at all times.” He paused so Miranda nodded once again. “Say it.”

In her new life, Miranda’s first words were a quiet, “Yes Sir.”

“Good. We are off to a good start. After 18 years of freeloading, you are to pay your way in life now. I have decided this is how you will do it.”

Mystified, Miranda wondered what could she do? Then she remembered that she was naked and what her mother said about men and women.

“You will help me with the business. My clients will have the use of you. I will not touch you as you are my step daughter, but you do belong to me and I will assign you to the men I want pleasured. Mr. Lowman here will have the charge of your training. As you are already wonderfully naturally submissive, you will not require much training. I’m sure your mother told you the rules of your new life but I will go over it again. Mr. Lowman, begin.”

Leaning over the bed, Mr. Lowman touched her vagina. He ran his finger along her slit. To Miranda, it was uncomfortable but she did not stop it. He touched and probed until Miranda was wet down there. Her mother called it a sign of arousal, that Miranda liked what was happening. She didn’t fight it. Soon, Mr. Lowman touched a little spot, her clit, her mother said, and Miranda almost bucked off the bed. Mr. Lowman smiled and began stroking her there until Miranda was moaning and writhing, reaching for an orgasm. Her mother had told her that that was what it was.

She was just there when Mr. Lowman’s hand was removed. She cried deep in her throat in protest, but she said nothing. Then Mr. Lowman turned away to her bureau and when he turned back, he had a thin, long pole in his hand. It was made of iron. He positioned it at her vagina hole and with her wetness, it slid in easily. She only felt a mild uncomfortable stretching and a burst of pain when it was shoved to the hilt quickly. She cried out, eyes going wide and locking on the ceiling above her. çapa escort

Mr. Lowman left it in her, even though the heat and pleasure was building again and she wanted it to move. She bucked her hips, gyrating on the wand.

“Look at me, Miranda.” Miranda obeyed Gary. “You feel nice?” she nodded eagerly. “You want to move on the vaginal wand?” she nodded even more earnestly. Gary gestured to Mr. Lowman. The stranger’s hand was back, and Miranda groaned in ecstasy when he moved the wand in and out of her. She moved with it. He stopped, the wand halfway into her.

“One of the rules, Miranda, that your mother did not know because she is not a whore, is not to move. No matter how pleasurable the thing in your cunt is, no matter how bad you want it, you do not have the privilege to move your hips. You stay still, let the man do what he had to do. You will get your orgasm but your place is an object, a property of the company. Objects do not move. Now again,” he gestured to the trainer.

As those words tumbled through her head, Miranda felt the dildo slid in again and out… she strained, fighting not to move her hips again. True to Gary’s words, the pleasure built regardless. Her thoghs twitched, her hands flapped with the urge and the effort, but she did not move her hips.

“Good girl,” Gary purred. “You are allowed to cum, to orgasm, any time you like. But if a man is using you and you are this close to your orgasm, and he stops, you are not allowed to complain. You are never allowed to complain against a man unless he touches you without my permission. As that will not happen, it is now your duty to obey any and every man to ask anything of you.”

As he was speaking, Mr. Lowman continued pushing and pulling the vaginal wand slowly, causing friction and upping the urge to buck her hips, but she succeeded not to. “Reward her, Lowman. Faster.” The wand began to piston in and out of her. It went in deep then exited her completely before going in deep again. Miranda shrieked with the pleasure and the pressure of keeping her hips still. It was impossible. But she obeyed, just like her mother said.

On a particularly violent push in, the pleasure exploded and her shrieks became louder, high pitched as she orgasmed powerfully. When she quieted, realized Mr. Lowman was still pistoning the wand into her, she realized she was building to orgasm again. She looked hastily at Gary, not sure she could handle it again.

He noticed her glance. “The rules, Miranda. You are never to ask a man for anything. Not even me. Whatever he does with you is his business. You do not say what you want. You can shriek or groan as loud as you like but you do not speak to a man. Even if he asks you a question or demands that you speak, you do not. Only in an acceptable social setting you may speak when spoken to, but if you are naked, no talking, my dear.”

Miranda nodded hastily, her eyes rolling back in her head at the pleasure. He hips bucked once. “No moving Miranda,” Gary’s voice was pleasant. “You were so good just now.” Miranda tried harder. She was almost at the peak…

The wand stopped. It sank into her and stopped. Miranda looked at both men in turn, in disbelief and horror. And wanting.

“Do the rest of the work, Miranda,” Mr. Lowman spoke for the first time. His voice was gravelly. Miranda was confused as to what she was supposed to do. “Clench your vaginal muscles on the wand. Squeeze it with your channel,” he instructed. Miranda tried. She clenched as if she was peeing and had to stop. Over and over she did it, realizing how she squeezed the wand inside her. It was tiring, doing this as well as staying still, but she did it. And the pleasure built again, gently this time.

“Sometimes men like to stick their cocks in and have you do all the work,” Gary said. This is what you would do. You are not allowed to move your hips so you cannot move up and down on them. You do not have the privilege to ride a man’s cock. Miranda. He rides you.”

She barely heard him, concentrating as she was so much.

“With so many men using you, your young vagina would become loose if we do not take care.” This from Mr. Lowman. “Clenching on the wand tightens your muscles. Every night when you are put to bed you will be required to squeeze and release for an hour before you go to sleep.”

Hearing that, she looked up at them again, in wonder, as she was not allowed to speak. It was Mr. Lowman who answered her question while Gary, with a diabolical smile, locked onto the wand in her vagina. “You are never to be empty in your cunt again, Miranda. When a man is not using you, you will be filled with a device just like this. You will be fitted with it when you start the day and also when you prepare for the night.”

“It is so you always güngören escort crave something there. So you crave cock.” Gary supplied.

She was reeling from this information when Gary ordered, “Stop!”

Stop what? Miranda kept clenching the wand. It felt so good.

The thing was pulled from her violently and Miranda locked dazed eyes on Lowman’s tight face. He was disappointed. Swiftly, he delivered two stinging slaps with the wand at the open lips of her vagina. Despite the urge, she did not move her hips away. “You were so good before now Miranda, but that is okay, you will learn. You have all the promise of a perfect whore. But you must remember to stop whenever you are told. Your wants and pleasures do not matter. I say stop and you stop. Get it?”

Miranda nodded. Anything to have it back in her.

“Turn over.”

What? She hesitated so Mr. Lowman did it himself. “Turn Over. You are to obey commands immediately Miranda.” He flipped her to her stomach then positioned her on her hands and knees. Gary moved into her line of sight, watching her be manipulated. She only caught him for one moment before Mr. Lowman was pressing her cheek into the bedding, lifting her ass high. “Spread your legs,” he told her.

She widened her stance, putting her knees as far apart as they could go, remembering her mother’s words that she have her legs spread for men whenever she was naked and in whatever position she was in. It earned her a complement from Gary. “Good girl,” he said again. “You are the perfect whore, my girl.”

Mr. Lowman touched her anal hole. It was not with his fingers and she stiffened up. Her mother said nothing like this. “Easy girl,” Mr. Lowman said gently, relentlessly pushing the tip of one finger in. It burned, but not much.

“Your mother did not tell you about this because she is no whore. She does not know,” said Gary. Miranda tilted her head on the bed so she could look at him and he spoke. “All your holes are to be used, girl. Your cunt, sometimes called a pussy.” She blushed at the crude words. “Your asshole. And your mouth. If it is a hole, it is used. But there are requirements,” he informed her. “I will not allow any and any one to touch you. A prospective client who has not yet invested with the company will get to use your mouth. But you will not allow him to cum in you. He only does so in your ass or pussy when he invests in my company. Buyers would get your ass, or your breasts. They will be satisfied with those plump globes and lovely titties my dear. When they pass money, they get your pussy. See, I take care of you.”

Miranda nodded. It was all she could do as Mr. Lowman’s finger went in deeper.”

Cary pulled something from his pocket. Miranda saw it was a wand, just like the one she had in her pussy, or cunt or vagina. It was slimmer, though, and longer. He passed it to Mr. Lowman. “It’s time for this,” he said.

Mr. Lowman pressed it against her hole, telling her to relax and push out. She obeyed. It slid in a little and she realized it was slick, probably to ease the passage. It was so thin, it didn’t really hurt. But as he pushed deeper, Miranda clammed up and it hurt. She grunted in pain, not daring to move her hips away.

“Easy,” said Mr. Lowman. He stopped pushing, letting it rest for a while. “Relax, Miranda. Take it easy. We’ll get it in, but you have to relax.”

Miranda took deep breaths and obeyed. She tried to relax. When she did, Mr. Lowman pushed deeper with burning pain to Miranda’s anal tract. He must have pushed it all in because he stopped. “Take a while to get used to it Miranda. Now squeeze it, just like the vaginal wand. That’s it. Good girl. Stop.” She stop clenching and releasing gratefully. He slid it slowly out then in again. Miranda let the pleasurable tingle in her butthole wash over her.

He did it again and again until Miranda accepted all the pleasure and he was going faster and faster.

“Cum Miranda,” Gary ordered. “Give me an orgasm.”

Miranda was so close, felt so good, wanted to push and pull her hips but the effort to hold it steady because they wanted her to, felt good too. A bare minute later, she pulsed, came and her pussy clenched in air painfully.

Not for long though, because Mr. Lowman stuck the vaginal wand pack in her pussy. He also stuck the anal wand in place as well and left both deeply buried in her. The sensation, the fullness, was pleasant, was hot, she wanted to buck her hips to make herself come. But she obeyed and stayed still. She thought about clenching her muscles on the wands but no one had given her permission so she didn’t think she was allowed to do it.

“On your back,” Mr. Lowman ordered with a gentle pat at her butt cheeks. Miranda flipped over and spread her limbs to the bedposts again. She reveled in the wands inside her, marveling that they stayed in place while she moved.

“Good girl,” Mr. Lowman patted her pussy in reward. He even slipped his finger in beside the wand and fingered her a few times. Miranda smiled at him. “There, I told you, Gary, she’d love it. She is even smiling.”

Gary nodded. “Good. She is easy to train. Continue.”

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Arthur stood at his office window and watched the young woman walk up the path towards the main entrance. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that was tight on her slim figure; on her feet were a pair of dirty white trainers. She walked with an air of indifference, not bothering to rush despite already being fifteen minutes late.

The DHSS hand been opening on Saturday mornings for the last two months, it was a new initiative designed to try and catch benefit cheats who worked at weekends.

Arthur volunteered for the new Saturday shifts. The four hours he worked on Saturday mornings meant he got a full day off in the week. It also meant he got the chance to interview the likes of Victoria Burns in a deserted office.

Vicky followed the path towards the front entrance, Arthur kept his eye on her until she got to where the path turned away from his office and the young woman went out of sight.

Five minutes passed before the buzzer rang to signal that someone was waiting at the counter. Arthur took his time walking from his office at the rear of the building to the public waiting area at the front.

When he got there the young woman was leaning on the counter, “Vicky Burns, I am supposed to be seeing someone this morning.”

Arthur nodded towards the clock on the waiting room wall and said. “It’s ten-twenty. Your appointment was at ten o’clock.”

Vicky looked around the empty waiting room and shrugged her shoulders.

“This way then please, Miss Burns.” Arthur led the way down a long corridor to the interview room. He opened the door and stood back to let the young woman in first. As she passed close to him he could smell a slight body odour.

The interview room was small and cold. The floor was covered with pale blue linoleum; the only furniture was a single desk with a chair on each side. Arthur took a seat and signalled that Vicky should do the same by holding his hand towards the empty chair.

Vicky sat down and started talking immediately. “I don’t know why I am here again. I was only here last month with some woman. Told her I couldn’t find no work.”

Arthur waited for her to stop talking, took a thin blue file from the drawer, and placed it on the desk in front of them. “When was the last time you were engaged in paid employment Miss Burns?”

“I’ve not worked in two years.” Vicky addressed her answer to the wall behind Arthur’s head.

“What was your last paid employment?”

“I can’t remember.” She shrugged her shoulders and answered in an even tone as if she was already bored by the questions. Arthur noticed her glance at the blue folder.

“Do you know it is an offence to claim unemployment benefit whilst engaged in paid employment?”

“Yes” She looked directly at him this time, but he could tell she was nervous.

Arthur took the folder and set it in front of him, “Have you ever worked ‘on the side’ Miss Burns?”

She shook her head.

Arthur let Vicky see he was surprised by her answer and made a point of stopping in the middle of opening the folder, “Never, Miss Burns?”

“Never.”

Arthur tapped the front of the folder with a podgy finger. “You’ve been working at Aldo’s Garden Centre for the last six months Victoria.”

“Don’t know what you’re…”

“You can stop pretending Victoria.” Arthur flipped open the folder and took out four sheets of paper. All with neat typing on them and all signed at the bottom. “I have statements from employees, customers and even neighbours who have seen you leaving your house every morning.”

“Nosey bastards.” She took a stray hair and threaded it behind her ear, “S’pose I have to stop working then. Live off the little dole you lot give me.”

“There is a bit more to it than that Victoria.” Arthur got up and walked around the desk until he was standing over the seated girl. The T-shirt she was wearing had a round neck that exposed her slender neck and a good amount of her chest. He stared openly for a moment, enjoying the sight of the smooth pale flesh. “You have been fraudulently claiming Jobseekers Allowance for the last six months.”

“So.”

“So, we can make you pay it back. If you won’t or can’t pay it back you could end up in prison.”

“I can’t pay it back and I don’t want to go to prison.” She was still defiant but there was a nervousness in her hazel eyes.

Arthur had heard what he wanted to hear. He walked back around the desk and sat down. “How old are bağcılar escort you Victoria?”

“Eighteen.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair and considered the young woman in front of him. Coming, as she did, from the Boldsworth Estate she probably had little chance of finding gainful employment. A conviction for benefit fraud would put paid to any chance she ever had of getting a job.

She was young, with a lean body, and an attractive face; even though she tended to spoil her looks by wearing a constant scowl.

“Prison is a last resort and an unlikely outcome. However, you will have to stop work immediately. Unless, of course, you go legit. But I doubt Aldo’s Garden Centre pay you enough to make paying tax and national insurance worth your while.”

Vicky smiled sarcastically.

Arthur continued, “Your most pressing problem is paying back the benefits you have been claiming. But I may be able to help you there” Arthur took the folder, replaced the papers and put it back in his drawer.

“How?” Vicky asked with a suspicious tone to her voice.

“Well it’s all up to me really. I read the case, assess the evidence and decide what course of action is appropriate. There is some evidence in your case but I can probably be lenient. I can write my report, say that I am suspicious that you may have been working but, after interviewing you today I can say that I have my doubts, and that I managed to scare you sufficiently to stop you working and claiming in future.”

“And that would be the end of it?” Vicky was biting her bottom lip.

“The end of it as far as the DHSS is concerned.” Arthur leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk.

Vicky shuffled uncomfortably in her chair; she looked straight at Arthur and said in a firm voice, “You can forget about any funny business with me. I don’t do that kind of thing.”

“I think you are misjudging me Victoria. I am not after a night of passion or a quick blow job under the desk. I will have to work a lot harder to get you out of this mess than I would if I just handed the case to the courts. I will need to know you have learnt your lesson.”

“I have. I won’t do it again.”

“I don’t intend to let you get away scot free and I will not let you leave until I am convinced you have learnt your lesson.” Arthur looked her in the eye and said, “You can pay for your wrongdoings by receiving a spanking.”

There was a slight start but she did not look away. “A spanking? From you?”

“Of course from me. Or you can just walk out that door and await your day in court.”

The young girl bit her lip and looked nervously at the door behind her. She had no choice really, what hope did she have of paying back the benefits she had been claiming, and if she didn’t pay them back she could end up in prison.

“And after today I won’t get called here again?”

“As long as you stop working and claiming benefits, today will be your only punishment.” Arthur stood up and walked around the desk. “What is it to be then Victoria? Will you accept your spanking?”

She nodded her head and whispered “Yes.”

Arthur told her to stand up. He positioned the chair in the middle of the room and sat down. Then told Vicky to stand at his side. Her jeans were loose around her hips and she did not wear a belt. There was a strip of creamy skin above the top of her jeans and below the hem of het T-shirt. Vicky was by no means fat but there was a soft fullness to the flesh there. Her arms hung loose by her sides. Arthur again noticed the heavy odour of unwashed skin; a natural rather than a dirty smell.

“Well Vicky I am going to spank your bottom for as long as I see fit. When I am convinced that you have learned your lesson then, and only then, the punishment will stop. Understand?”

She nodded and pulled the hem of her T-shirt down.

“Over you go then.” Arthur took Vicky’s arm and guided her over his knees; he felt the warmth of the eighteen year olds body as it settled on his thighs. She braced her legs behind her and rested the palms of her hands on the linoleum floor.

In front of Arthur was a small, chubby, denim clad bottom, two firm hillocks divided by the seam of her jeans. He laid his left arm across the bare skin at the small of her back and placed the palm of his right hand on her right buttock. Vicky stiffened a little as she felt his hand on her jeans. Arthur could feel her bahçelievler escort body warmth through her clothes. He pushed firmly against her bottom and was pleased to feel the firmness of the flesh.

He slapped her left buttock first, raising his hand about eight inches above the target and bringing it down with a firm slap. The denim dulled the noise but nonetheless it gave a satisfying thud. Vicky stayed silent. Arthur waited a couple of seconds then spanked the other cheek. This time he did not wait in between spanks and started to hit each cheek alternately. Slap, slap, slap, slap, his hand beat out a steady rhythm on the chubby cheeks in the denim jeans. Vicky shifted position ever so slightly, placing her feet a couple of inches further apart. In this position Arthur could see where the denim had faded in the crotch of her jeans.

The slaps became firmer; Vicky’s breathing became louder and more erratic. Arthur continued to stare at the bottom in front of him, his hand a blur of pink as it spanked the young woman’s bottom. He continued his firm rhythm for over two minutes before he stopped abruptly.

“Owch!” Vicky cried as the beating came to an end. Arthur could feel Vicky’s stomach tightening against his thigh as the young woman tried to suck in air.

“How was that?”

“Painful.”

“Well it’s not over yet. Stand up.” Arthur leaned back to let the girl rise. She got unsteadily to her feet and stood in front of him; both of her hands rubbing her bottom.

“Those jeans are giving you far too much protection. Drop them please.” The young woman looked at the man sitting in front of her and realised he did not expect anything but total obedience from her. She undid the button, slid down the zip and with a hand at each side of the waistband pulled down her jeans. Underneath she wore a pair of plain orange knickers.

“Back over.” Arthur ordered.

Vicky, restricted by the jeans around her ankles, shuffled towards him and lowered herself back into position. Again she steadied herself with her hands and feet on the linoleum floor and waited for the onslaught to resume.

Arthur again took a moment to look at the view in front of him. The knickers had a full seat that moulded the young woman’s bottom. A fair amount of material had caught in the crease between the fleshy cheeks. The rear view of her pussy lips, outlined below the orange cotton of her knickers, peeped from between her thighs.

Placing his hand on her bottom Arthur enjoyed the feel of Vicky’s warm flesh through the cotton of her knickers. He was bolder now, letting his hand linger on her bottom, he gave one cheek a firm squeeze.

Without warning the spanking started. “Owch!” Vicky, cried as the first slap made contact with her bottom. With each further spank she let out a gasp. Arthur ignored the young woman and continued to hit the fleshy buttocks with a fair amount of force.

“Ow! That’s too hard.” Vicky reached back with her right hand in an effort to protect her bottom. Arthur interrupted his steady rhythm to grab her wrist and force it into the small of the young woman’s back and out of the way.

The spanking had forced more of the orange knickers deeper into Vicky’s bum crack, exposing a fair amount of firm flesh that was turning a bright shade of pink. The smacks made a sharp slapping sound as Arthur’s hand came into contact with the exposed part of Vicky’s cheeks.

Spank, “Owch!” Slap, “Aaaowwch!” Vicky was screaming after every spank. Arthur hooked a finger under the left leg hole of Vicky’s knickers and pulled them aside to expose a little more flesh. A satisfied smile spread across his face on seeing the contrast between the pink flesh that had been exposed to the spanking and the white skin that, until that moment, had been protected by her knickers.

He gave the cheeks another rub, watching the way the buttocks moved under his rubbing, before jiggling back into shape when he removed his hand.

Taking a firm grip on Vicky’s hand he pressed it against the small of her back, securing her more firmly in his lap in case of any resistance to what he planned next. Gripping the waistband of her knickers with his right hand Arthur started to draw them down, exposing the top of her cheeks and bottom crack.

“No! No!” Vicky kicked her legs and tried to struggle free. Arthur let go of her knickers and gave her one hard slap on her half exposed bum.

“Stay şirinevler escort still!” He shouted.

At the sound of his raised voice Vicky stopped kicking. When she was still Arthur continued to pull down her knickers. Two pale, fleshy globes were revealed to Arthur, wobbling slightly as the knickers were drawn over them. The deep central divide also came into view. The orange knickers were inverted as they came down, the materiel trapped in between her buttocks. Arthur took a firm grip and yanked the knickers down. As they emerged from her bottom crack Arthur saw a brown stain in the crotch, it looked moist, was about half an inch long and darker and wider on the middle. Arthur dragged the knickers down her thighs and left them just above her knees. Inside out, the tell tale stain of Vicky’s tardy attitude to hygiene on display. Inhaling deeply Arthur detected the faint odour of shit emerging from the young woman across his lap.

Vicky’s slender thighs did not cover any of her modesty. The rear pouch of her fleshy pussy was on show, shaved and pursed together, there was a slight hint of inner labia between the outer lips.

Arthur smiled at a young woman that was careful to keep her pussy free of pubic hair but seemingly oblivious to a dirty bottom. He placed the palm of one hand on one of her buttock cheeks and pulled her bottom open exposing the sweaty crack and the small brown pucker of her anus.

“Hey!” Vicky cried out in protest but Arthur ignored her and continued to stare at her intimate details. There was a small amount of hair in her bum crack, moist with sweat and stuck to the sides of her inner cheeks. There was a thicker circle of hair around the anus and a small trace of shit could be seen around the hole. The anus itself was a faint shade of yellow. With her cheeks open the smell of her pooh was quite apparent now.

“Dirty old perv.” Vicky said through clenched teeth.

“Judging by what I can see here you are the dirty one Miss Burns. Have you ever heard of toilet paper?” Arthur waited for Vicky to answer. When she gave no response he tapped her bum cheek lightly and asked. “Lost your tongue?”

“Just hurry up and get it over with. I never want to see this place again.”

“Very well.” Arthur started the spanking again. He took more time in between slaps now, enjoying the view of the naked eighteen year old bottom in front of him. All of Vicky’s resistance had gone; she tugged her wrist from his grip and placed her hand back on the floor.

This bare bottom spanking, although slower, had more force than the ones over her jeans and knickers. She cried out after each stroke, sometimes an involuntary squeak and sometimes she swore at the top of her voice. The beating continued regardless, there was more to see now that she was bare and Arthur enjoyed the way her skin wobbled and turned pink with each slap. After one hard slap, aimed at the crease of skin where her buttocks met her thighs, Vicky pulled her knees in and lifted her feet off the floor. This movement tightened her buttocks and pushed her pussy out behind, giving Arthur a nice view of her chunky lips.

He had both hands free now and after a particularly savage rain of blows he stopped to admire his handy work. Vicky started to rise, thinking that the punishment was over but Arthur laid a palm on each of her cheeks and pulled them apart. A strong musky smell rose from her crack as it opened, followed by a short wet fart.

“Let me go, I’ve had enough.”

Arthur smoothed his hands over the warm chunky cheeks. “You won’t be making any false claims for Jobseekers Allowance in future will you Vicky?”

“No. Now let me go.” There was a loud sniff and Arthur thought he may have spanked the young woman to tears.

“Stand up.” To get up Vicky had to push off her hands and feet, a movement that gave Arthur a final close up view of her pussy and bum-hole. She stood in front of him and bent to pull up her knickers and jeans.

“Not until I say the punishment is over.” She stood straight again, directly in front of Arthur, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her lap. “Put them by your sides.” Vicky moved her hands to her sides. Arthur took one last look at the young woman. Her eyes were red with tears, her jeans and knickers bunched around her ankles, the brown stain clearly visible. Her long bare legs looked lean and athletic. Every detail of her pussy was on display, the thin lips with their deep divide, a hint of inner labia poked out of the smoothness of the shaven mound.

“OK you have had your punishment. You can leave but don’t let me catch you trying to beat the system again.” Before Arthur had finished his sentence she was pulling up her knickers and jeans. She stopped momentarily when the skid mark in her knickers caught her eye, but pulled them back on anyway.

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Chapter Eight

Chelsea awakes a very different woman.

Chelsea woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. She was back in her room at Sir Douglas’s house and she had been woken by the memory of what had happened the night before. She felt quite sore on her bottom and thighs, many of those attending the party had been quite rough in the handling of her tender flesh.

She had been dreaming of the man who had been flogged before her eyes the night before. There had been a look on his face, as if he was in some kind of an ecstatic trance while he had been both flogged and orally pleasured. She realised that none of the men present had been allowed to whip him, although several had asked the stern faced matron who had been overseeing the event and been turned away to some of the other people on display’ She assumed that it was probably something that was unique to his particular desire, but was fascinated by what she had seen.

This dream had been extremely erotic, in it she had both whipped the gentleman until blood was running down his back, and then she had climbed on top of him, impaling herself on his rock hard cock. The feel of his cock inside her had felt so real she could almost still feel it now that she was awake.

She was so wet, so twitchy with sexual frustration that she knew that she would have to bring herself to orgasm right there.

She moaned as she rolled over onto her front, reaching between her legs to stoke her slippery and silky smooth flesh. The feel of her own wetness between her thighs always made her feel feverish and hot. She always thought of herself at moments like these like a cat, twining itself around it’s owners legs, rubbing and purring, begging for affection.

She slid her fingers inside herself and her orgasm exploded over her like a wave. She screamed aloud, gasping at the feel of her innermost muscles squeezing against her fingers as they moved inside of her. Her body writhed under her own touch and she felt all of this sexual energy that had accumulated within her arc across her brain in a multicoloured burst of orgasmic energy.

As she came, she could feel the muscles in her abdomen and thighs clench and shake and the feel of it of was so intense that afterwards she could only lie there, wide eyed, feeling like all of the hair on her body was standing on end.

This left her shaking and feeling very light headed. She lay there for a while, feeling totally at peace and empty. No thoughts, no emotions, just at peace. She felt like a stained glass window from a church, with sunlight shining through it.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, but she started to come back into focus with the world around her coming back into view. Her stomach rumbled in a very loud way which made her laugh. For some reason, the image of her finishing school governess, a very stern woman by the name of Ms. Fotheringham who had taken a very direct interest in her upbringing as a proper young lady popped into her mind.. She had taught her the importance of suppressing such bodily rumblings, and the image of her lecturing her about her behaviour the previous evening, when she was stripped and exposed to the crowd made her laugh.

She got herself dressed in the clothes that Onna had arranged for her. She found the kimono garments that Onna provided to be very comfortable, unlike many of the corseted and binding clothes that she had worn previously. She felt very free, free of worry and concern and strangely proud.

The pride was something that she was not expecting. Her upbringing which had been a strictly Anglican rural upbringing had been quite disciplined with an emphasis on civilised pursuits. This had been tempered by the common sense about the natural world that living on her fathers extensive estates had brought. One could not ignore the realities of life in such an environment, from seeing the pigs slaughtered for the Christmas hams to seeing her favourite mare mounted by her fathers prized stallion, the reality of mother nature was everywhere to be seen.

She remembered that the sight of the stallions penis had her in a fit for a week! It had looked so huge that she had to be reassured by one of her older female friends that a man’s organ was not the same size or dimension as the one she had seen in the mounting yards.

The first time she had held a mans cock in her hand had been a very different situation and she had felt a great deal more enthusiasm for the task. She had learnt the arts of being a woman from the many women around her fathers house and as her mother had died in childbirth, she had been raised mostly by these women and had learned as much from her governess on the social arts of conversation as she had from the hurried whispered conversations about sex and men with fındıkzade escort the scullery maids in the kitchen.

One night shortly after her eighteenth birthday, she had done the unthinkable and had crept away from her bedroom in the dead of night and had taken her horse down to the village inn, where she met up with several of the women from the kitchen.

By the time she had gotten there the men had been well and truly into their cups, so she was seen as just another one of the women there that night. In cold and sober daylight, they would have taken their hats of their heads and said their hello’s, but that night she was able to be just a young woman amongst several in the inn that evening. It had been wonderful, to drink and to dance and to flirt with those strong strapping young lads from the farms. The alcohol had done its work and she had been very happy, laughing and care free without any of her usual shyness.

Before riding home, she had a fleeting tryst with the drunken son of one of her fathers tenant farmers. He had been a large strapping lad with broad shoulders and a gentleness to him which had allowed her to approach him for a dance. She had taken him outside into the laneway and they had kissed, clumsily but forcefully with the rough stubble of his face grazing her cheeks. She had felt his large hands on her breasts and she had traced the outline of what she later realised was actually quite a large sized cock through the harsh fabric of his work pants. Her heart had been pounding so hard it felt like it would leap from her chest, but the alcohol and the feeling that she had to do something different with her life pushed her past her usual boundaries and she had grabbed hold of his hard cock, eliciting a moan from him that made her feel powerful, in control and wanted.

She had to stand back as he undid the buttons of his fly and withdrew his large, erect cock for her to hold in her hands. The skin of it was so soft, like the skin of her inner thighs and breast, but it was so hard and hot in her hand. She felt like her knees would buckle and her mouth felt so dry that she had to lick her lips. She could see it’s length in the light, the pale flesh of it gleaming in the lamplight in the alleyway and as she ran her hands over it, the sounds he made as she caressed the hard length of it were very intense. He was muttering “oh god” over and over, a very heartfelt prayer of lust that felt like a pagan benediction, empowering her every move.

When his cock started pulsing in her hand and jet after jet of steaming come burst across her wrist and forearm onto her skirts, she didn’t know what to say! But the answering pulse between her legs that pushed her over the edge to her first ever orgasm within the arms of another man, even though it had not gone far enough to actually for him to be within her, was more than enough to make her want such experiences again.

This had been a moment that defined her next few years while she still living with her father. She would find herself at the country balls and fairs that were fully chaperoned with Aunts and Uncles escorting those unmarried men and women, but assignations were often made there to be followed through at later times. She had also become quite the flirt with the young men in the neighbouring villages, even to the point of becoming known for the twinkle in her eye and the shape of her figure through her skirts.

What she had not known was that her activities had begun to attract unwelcome attention from those in the community who did not join in the drunken revelry at the local inn on a Saturday evening. Those who did not enjoy the whiskey and conversation at the country balls and who essentially seemed to spend their time watching their neighbours and gossiping about things that they knew nothing about.

This came to a head when one of the farm boys that she was dallying with was foolish enough to consider what they were doing was based on love, as opposed to the look of him working behind a plough. He was also stupid enough to go cap in hand to her father and as for her hand in marriage.

Her father had confronted her when she had returned from her riding which was part of her exercise regimen during the afternoons. This was when she discovered that her normally mild father had chased the unfortunate paramour from his farm and had discharged several loads of buckshot into his rather lovely backside.

This created a singular ruckus in the village and the local constabulary became involved, creating a scandal which would remain the talk of the village for a very long time. As a result of this, she found herself packed away to London in the care of one of her fathers sisters, who as it turned out was a closet alcoholic aksaray escort and provided a suitably blind eye as she became enmeshed into the social whirl of London set.

She still loved her father very much but had not forgiven him for sending her away to London. While she loved the socialising, the parties and the balls, she missed her family home and her horses and while the men here in London were generally more cavalier and charming, they lacked a certain strength to them that the men on the land had shown her. She had felt appreciated while having the literal roll in the hay with a farming lad, but the so called “gentlemen” of the city considered her just another one of many women and she found them in turn rather boring.

She had considered herself rather worldly and interesting amongst the shallow minds of those that she had consorted with, but it wasn’t until she had met the Duchess, the one who had sent her to Sir Douglas for what some serious training that she had encountered anyone that she considered an equal for her intellect. Then to meet Sir Douglas and Onna! It was as if she had been wearing a lace veil all of these years and these two had torn it from her vision. She had never experienced anything like this and while she knew that they were in their own way quite ordinary, their was an intensity to the way that they lived their lives that she had never seen before.

In addition to this, she was becoming aware of what was happening to her. Having been a horse rider for many years, she had realised this morning that what was happening to her was very similar to the processes that she went through in teaching a new horse to take a difficult jump over a hedgerow. She was being trained and trained hard.

This was a very sobering thought, but one which strangely made her heart pound just that little bit faster while she considered it. It was one thing to be involved in a sexual encounter that took you that significant step further than you had ever been before, but to know that there was a mind, an intelligence focused on you with a plan, indeed even a schedule of steps to take you through with a particular goal in sight. Why, it was enough to make you feel slightly faint.

Chelsea knew that ever since she had that very first cock in her hand and experienced the power that woman can hold over a man, she had become something of a sexual predator. She had been with enough married men purely on the basis of a whim to know that many other women looked at her in the same way as if they had seen a lioness sunning itself at the base of Nelson’s column. She was not the only one in the uppermost circles of London’s social set with similar attitudes. Despite the external morality play that was always displayed for the masses, there was enough sucking and fucking going on to make even a sailor blush! People were people after all. While the façade had changed under Queen Victoria, it was the façade only and the men and women of London where as amoral and sexually dynamic as they had always been.

It was inevitable that she would realise that she was being trained in this way. Despite her gauche country girl exterior, she was no fool and the question here was, did she stay? Her experiences of the previous evening had been extreme, beyond anything that she had ever dreamed of, but it had also had been frightening as well.

Was her lust for excitement and sexual pleasure broad enough to encompass this situation? She knew that Sir Douglas was a man of his word and that if she wished, she could walk out of his house with impunity. If she did, it was also clear that a door which had been opened for her here would be closed, probably forever.

With further thought, Chelsea realised that after the experience of the evening before, locked in, strapped tight, open and wanting, was something that she just could not walk away from. She also realised that she while she had become quite jaded with the the ordinary men she had been meeting, it was clear that Sir Douglas had fanned the flames of lust within her. She had never felt so erotically aware, with the feel of the clothes across her body feeling like an exotic caress with every step that she took.

Chelsea also knew that she desired Sir Douglas in a way that was far beyond what she had previously experienced. When she had seen Onna wrapping her hands and mouth across his cock, she had gone weak at the knees. After last night, her lust had been fanned into a roaring flame. She knew that the deliberate refusal of cock, at a time when she so desperately wanted to be spread open and penetrated was the spur that was forcing her faster and faster into this experience.

She felt like a leaf caught up in a whirlpool but her rumbling stomach brought eyüp escort her back from her emotional deliberations. She thought that it would be good to have something to eat and maybe talk to someone about the way she was feeling. So she re-wrapped her kimono around her and tightened its belt and headed off to speak with Helene in the kitchen.

As she walked her way throughout the complex, she realised that in some respects that this home resembled its owner. Like Sir Douglas, the exterior resembled that of any other house in this upmarket part of London. Once you stepped inside, the first two layers of the house where very gentlemanly, reflecting the very best of contemporary design and with every feature of comfort.

Once you penetrated these initial layers of the house, which actually extended further into the properties both behind and to either side, the martial elements of Sir Douglas’s personality became apparent. The internal doors were not made of wood, but of steel, with steel shutters that opened outwards, allowing the defenders of the house to fire towards an invading force.

Once you had penetrated these areas, the internal courtyard and the kitchen were areas of sanctuary for everyone. It was the kitchen that Chelsea walked towards in order to have some breakfast, but after looking at the time on the grandfather clock at the end of the hall, it was more like lunch! She wasn’t aware of what time she had come home with Sir Douglas and Onna as she had either been asleep in an odd daze. She had picked up on the sense of urgency behind their departure from the event, but had no idea why or what it was all about. She clearly had gone to bed very late and woken at a correspondingly later time, so she felt a bit shy and embarrassed as she walked into the kitchen.

The kitchen was really lovely and warm and she was very, very hungry and Helene was there, looking rather the worse for wear and apparently quite tired herself. She was smiling through and it was clear that she had a wonderful time the night before.

Sitting down to a huge helping of English muffins and some Chinese tea, the food helped settle Chelsea’s rumbling stomach and helped settle the emotions churning throughout her breast.

She was sipping at her tea when Helene came and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

“How did you find last night mon cherie?” Helene asked. Helene was aware that this was a critical stage for Chelsea. There had been times when similar young women had left Sir Douglas’s house, shaken by their experience and she wanted to ensure that Chelsea was all right. Helene felt that Chelsea was something special and from the way that Sir Douglas and Onna were treating her, she knew that they shared these thoughts.

Chelsea spent the next half an hour talking to Helene about her experience and the impact of the whole event. The feeling of delicious helplessness, the awareness of everyone looking at her and the amazing rush of it all. It was an incredible feeling of powerlessness and yet she felt so strengthened by it. It was as if she was finally aware of an element of her own self that she had not been aware of before.

Chelsea also spoke about her desire to participate as well as being the object of attention. The man across from her who was being beaten had fired her imagination in a very special way and she knew that she wanted to have had her turn at the whip.

In the middle of all of this discussion, Chelsea shocked herself by bursting into tears. It wasn’t from any sorrow or fear, but the strength of her experiences had finally overwhelmed her.

Helene responded by giving her a big hug and cradling her while her tears flowed down over her cheeks. “It will be all right my darling, it took me the same way after my first soiree” she said. This happens to everyone and you must remember that you cannot climb a mountain of pleasure like this without having a corresponding valley the following day.

“Wait here for a moment my darling” and with that Helene went and made her a special herbal tea. It had valerian root and other items in it and it smelled quite medicinal as Helene steeped it in hot water in front of Chelsea. “This will make things much easier for you this morning” she said. “I’ve had some myself as I am a little bit sore and tired myself”.

“What did you get up to last night Helene?” asked Chelsea as she sipped at the somewhat tart herbal tea.

“Well last night Jonathan and I enjoyed each other” Chelsea said with a smile. I had never been with an American man before and he was quite the savage!” she said. Unlacing her top, Helene showed her some bite marks on her breasts that Jonathan had left the previous evening and then laughed at the look on Chelsea’s face. “Do not worry my darling, he has some of my teeth marks on his sensitive places as well and he will definitely be noticing them this morning!”

This made Chelsea laugh and Helene’s company, the food and the herbal tea helped ease away her worries. Chelsea knew in her heart of hearts that this was the right thing for her and that whatever happen she would never regret this choice to stay.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Anal Etiquette Prequel: Beverly Hill’s Therapeutic Medical Day Spa

By: Lord Odie

The Obligatory Disclaimer

The following is a work of pure sexual fiction and is intended for adult audiences ONLY. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading NOW and go tell your parent and/or guardian that you need stricter internet supervision. Any physical resemblance to a real person that any fictional character herein may bear is probably intentional and is meant as a compliment. Furthermore, all fictional characters in the following fantasy are consenting adults over the age of 18. They are also BDSM professionals and good at what they do. So please, don’t try anything that you’re about to read at home, if such things were even physically possible. If you still insist on trying things at home, please send all pictures and feedback to me about the experience. If I can’t stop you, I can at least make sure you’re doing it right. Consider yourself disclaimed.

5. Penélope’s Office

“You wanted to see me, Doctor?” Patricia asked as she entered Penélope’s luxuriously appointed office.

Penélope paused the video she had been watching just as it was getting to her favorite part. Evidently, Kaylee and her boyfriend, Kyle, were avid home video posters to free porn sites. They didn’t use their real names of course, but the extensive online profiling done to all new clients and employees had tracked down the activity through a web of email addresses and [illegal] hacked browser history. On screen, the young Kaylee was laying on her back on a bed with her ankles and wrists strapped together and then to the sides of the bed. This position held the young woman in a wide splits with her ass pointing straight up into the air with the help of a cushion. Kyle had just finished depositing his second load of cum into her slightly gaping anus and was busy feeding his softening cock down her throat to clean any residual ass juices off. The young mecidiyeköy escort man had a decently sized dick, but next to Penélope’s husband he was tiny. Kyle had just picked up their ingenious rubber tube to feed up Kaylee’s glistening asshole for her to vacuum clean when the buxom, redheaded nurse came into her office.

“I did. Have you had much interaction with our new nurse, Kaylee?” Penélope asked, trying to turn her full attention to her employee and gesturing to one of the expensive chairs in front of her desk. She knew her nipples were rock hard with excitement and obvious through the thin latex of her purple dress.

“I’ve worked with her a bit. She seems smart and competent; and she hasn’t been scared off yet,” Patricia added with a smirk.

“Good. I think she’s ready to learn how to affix patients to the treatment frames. Can you bring her with you when your prep your next patient?”

“Of course, Doctor,” Patricia replied. “Is she cleared for upstairs yet?”

Penélope thought for a moment before responding. Obviously, Kaylee was no stranger to kinky sex acts, so a quicker introduction to the Spa’s activities would probably be okay. “That should be okay; but nothing above the 5th floor for now. We might familiarize her with the 6th or 7th floors in the next couple of weeks depending on how today goes; but above that Kaylee has a few more months of training and familiarization to go through.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have her observe me prep my next patient and then I’ll let her do the one after that and I’ll supervise.”

“Perfect!” Penélope agreed.

“Will that be all, Doctor?” the cute redhead asked as she stood to leave.

“Yes, that is all,” she replied. “Oh, and can you close my door on your way out please? Thank you.” Patricia nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Damn! thought Penélope as she watched Patricia’s ass sway from side to side as the young nurse left. How she’s single with tits like beşiktaş escort that?!? Penélope shook her head in incomprehension before returning her attention to the monitor and starting the video again. It didn’t take long for wet slurping sounds to softly start coming out her speakers as on-screen Kaylee sucked her rectum clean of cum and lubrication. She made a mental note to bring this video to Antonio’s attention. He’d get a kick out of it.

“You may resume, Jill,” Penélope said to the empty room. Except it wasn’t empty. Underneath the desk, her secretary resumed her dictation. Penélope had a special desk chair whose seat split in two and the halves rotated backwards. The effect was similar to a gynecological chair. With her latex dressed pulled up to her hips, her secretary had full access to her holes yet was completely hidden from anyone who wasn’t behind the desk. Immediately, the lips that had been locked onto Penélope’s clit resumed sucking – hard. The fist in her drenched cunt began rotating from side to side and the arm buried up her loose backside began slowly moving in and out from wrist to elbow once again.

Onscreen, Kyle was urinating into Kaylee’s gaping asshole as the young blonde continued to suck out all the liquid sloshing around in her butt. Finishing his business, Kyle gave his girlfriend a few minutes to finish her sucking while he stroked his cock back to firmness. Soon, he was laying atop the bound woman pounding his dick into her asshole and working up to his third orgasm as Kaylee cried out and encouraged him to fuck her asshole harder.

After a couple minutes, the hot Latina commanded politely, “I’m ready to cum now, if you please,” as she watched Kaylee’s onscreen debauchery continue. In the video, Kyle was really giving it to the restrained Kaylee and pounding his nicely sized cock into the young blonde’s nether hole with long, powerful strokes. The young blonde was groaning loudly; obviously about ready to cum etiler escort hard. The camera angle showed a nice close-up of Kyle’s dick as it slammed balls deep into Kaylee’s perfectly sculpted ass.

Obediently, the fist up her cunt slipped out with a soft slurping noise and joined the other fist up Penélope’s back hole causing the older woman to groan. Jill’s fists and arms then began to speed up faster and faster. On each downward stroke, her closed fist would pop out of her boss’s useless sphincter only to reverse direction and slam right back in up to her elbow.

Penélope moaned in approval. Her fingers began tweaking her painfully hard nipples through her dress as she felt her orgasm building. It felt like it was going to be a big one.

It was. The Brazilian doctor cried out loudly and shook violently as her orgasm crashed let her. It took Penélope a few minutes to fully recover from that one. “Thank you, Jill. You can re-plug me and clean up.”

“Of course, Doctor,” came her secretary’s voice from underneath her desk. Penélope felt the woman’s hands and arms exit her sore asshole at last. Seconds later, the 3.75″ x 19.00″ dildo Antonio had selected for her before they’d left for work that morning slipped easily past her perpetually aching sphincter and buried itself to the hilt. The dildo was thick enough that if not for her corset, it’s outline against her stomach muscles would have been obvious. Penélope felt Jill lock the dildo in place with the specially designed strap that came standard on all her garter belts. After that, she crawled out from under the desk while wiping her arms dry with a towel from the stack that was kept under there for this specific purpose.

“Will there be anything else, Doctor?” Jill asked helpfully.

“Not at this time, thank you,” Penélope replied as she brought her legs together again and pulled up some financial software up on her screen. “Oh wait! Do you have those utility bills you thought were wrong for me to look over?” The amount of power the Spa consumed monthly never ceased to awe her. Although, it shouldn’t really come as that much of a surprise considering how much industrial-level equipment resided in the upper levels.

“At my desk, Doctor. I’ll be right back,” and she swayed out the door.

Back to the grind, thought Penélope as she scanned through lines of amounts on screen.

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I stirred awake, blinking in the dim morning light filtering through the hotel room curtains. I rolled over and tried to reach for Astrid, but only found rumpled sheets. Sitting up, I saw a note scribbled on hotel stationary: “Went to get good coffee and pastries. Stay put. -A”

I stretched my arms and back. I’m jolted awake by the soreness of arms and shoulders. I suddenly remembered how Astrid had placed my hands behind my head after having me mount that vulgar toy.

I remember my embarrassment last night as I fumbled inserting the toy at least once, prompting Astrid to scoot in and hold the dong steady. My face flushed as I recalled Astrid’s request to pause as she pulled down the toy’s foreskin, her giggles, and her soft kisses on my thigh as she coaxed me down the toy.

“Just like riding a bike, eh Johnny?” Astrid chirped as she slowly stood up and leaned in for a deep kiss. I felt her lube slick hand slowly stroke my arousal, the intensity of her kiss growing. At some point, Astrid shed her robe, letting it fall near my feet. She gently broke the kiss and said, “I take it you’re happy to see me.”.

Instead of answering, I reached out to pull her closer. More accurately, I tried to. Astrid tutted and pushed my hands down to my lap as she lithely climbed on top of me. She was surprisingly heavy for someone trim and petite. I felt myself sinking into the pillows and the toy pushing much deeper as she fully rested on top of me. The warm press of her body and the fresh scent of her skin was intoxicating.

“Hands behind your neck.” she said while trying to straddle me comfortably.

I complied, interlacing my hands and resting my elbows on the “winged back” of the chair. It struck me that’s pretty convenient; I’ve always wondered what fatih escort that part of the chair is for. I was brought out of my musing as I felt Astrid’s now cool hands reach for my cock. I felt her wetness on the tip of my tool and her hard clit as she teased both of us by rubbing my knob up and down her slit.

Astrid started to concentrate and slow her teasing. She looked into my eyes and asked, “Has anyone pleasured you this way since we were last together?” I made a face that you only use to say no and shook my head a few times.

She looked at each of my pupils in turn a few times in quick succession, like some inquisitor ferreting out untruth. “You know, I’ve missed you sometimes.” I felt her scorching heat engulf my tool slowly. She kept her gaze on me for a while before she closed her eyes, savoring the moment. I felt her pubic bone on mine, and she slowly ground her mons on mine. Tentatively, like trying to see if she remembers how or finding a long-lost rhythm. She pulled herself up slowly, softly purring and placing both hands on my shoulder for stabilization.

I was mesmerized by her perfect bosom. The incandescent light of her room adds some color to her flawless skin. Though in day light she’s pale, the only comparison that comes to mind is Stoya. I followed her stiff nipples as she rode me. It appears they’ve grown a bit darker in color, a stark contrast to the very light pink I remember. Astrid always lamented that people always took notice of her because of her bust, even if she had the prettiest face in the room. This went doubly so for women, who she had to fend off twice as hard. Her breasts look almost just like Shalina Devine’s, nipples and all. Or at least used to; I feel that çapa escort time has really passed by.

“You’ve noticed I’ve grown older; I see.” Astrid said softly, without emotion. I looked guilty as sin.

“It’s just been too long.” I stammered. “How can you still be this beautiful? I asked in a defeated tone.

“I know.” Astrid teased playfully. She removed her hands from my shoulders and pinned my elbows to the chair. She started to ride me faster, pushing me down into the cushions. “John, all this time, you knew I was more than a pretty face.” I felt her pussy tighten as she spoke. It was my turn to roll my eyes back in pleasure.

Astrid would clench her kegel muscles as she reaches the apex of my cock, using it like some sort of perverse braking system. She would then push down, and once she takes me to the hilt, she’ll grind or gyrate. Not surprisingly, this also pushed me down on the dildo, and her gyrations would have me sympathetically grind on the toy as well. This makes the toy irregularly brush or poke my prostate, which in turn would make me grunt, moan, or thrust up to meet Astrid’s rhythm. The fleeting glances of the toy puts a dull pressure on my spot. Making me harder and wanting more. Astrid drinks up this reaction and gets even more turned on. Pushing us in turn to a faster frenzy.

Astrid slowed down. She unpinned my arms and kissed me tentatively. “You’re staying over tonight.” I nodded, though it wasn’t a question. She seemed relieved none the less. “Help me up?” she asked, and I supported her as she unmounted me.

She looked at me mischievously as she stood up and limbered herself. “Try not to cum yet.” She grinned.

She clambered on top of me only to maneuver güngören escort herself, facing away from me. She stroked my cock a bit before lining it up her slit again. “Can you hold me up?” she asked as she lowered herself on my cock.

I took the opportunity to get my paws on her. One hand on her hip, the other gently cupping a breast. I heard her sigh and felt her put her hands over mine to steady herself as she restarted her canter. Despite the cool room, she has become sweaty. I can feel her breast slippery on my hand, and I can feel a bit of sweat run down my hands on her rather firm abs. I try to pull her closer to me, but she resists it, making her increase her pace. To keep a proper hold on her bust, I had to let her nipple slip between two fingers and nip it, or so I told myself. The dildo rubbed my spot less, though I can feel a bit of soreness from the protracted action.

I felt Astrid remove her hands. I saw she has transferred one to her exposed boob and the other rubbed her clit. At first, she started to moan, then whispered vulgarity. I felt her pussy start to clamp up.

“I’m going to…” Astrid started. Then the hand playing with her breast suddenly flew to my arm, grabbed me, and her fingers dug deep. I’ve always appreciated that she never had long nails because of these moments. “Sorry, fuck, I’m going to cum.” She stopped her riding and started to get rigid. One hand still busy rubbing her clit, the other making me wonder if I’d have to visit the NHS tomorrow and come up with what feline gave me these deep scratches.

She started to relax and pulled her close into an embrace. I felt her melt into me. Satisfied and catching her breath. I stroked her hair and kissed her back. It was a few quiet moments. I felt her lift the arm she scratched for inspection. She leaned down to kiss the red welts. “Sorry for that.” She sheepishly said. “Let’s finish you up.”

A loud beep followed by the door opening brought me back to the present. Astrid walked in with a coffee carrier and a brown bag smelling of croissants.

“Hello there.” She greeted.

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[Prologue]

“Les écrits anciens indiquent que depuis des temps immémoriaux, lorsque les légions des Forces du Mal se rassemblent sous une bannière unifiée pour ravager et asservir la planète ; apparaît alors la réincarnation de l’Elue, prêtresse-guerrière légendaire, damoiselle protectrice magicienne, à seule fin de s’opposer à leur règne de terreur et ramener le monde à l’équilibre.

Ainsi, selon l’antique prophétie, quand l’ère sombre débutera, une jeune vierge mystique de sang royal, fille d’un humain et d’une elfe, pourra devenir la détentrice d’un pouvoir ancestral secret susceptible de vaincre définitivement les forces démoniaques.

Cette Princesse du Royaume de Bryandal — dernier espoir des Mondes Libres Fédérés – maitrisera les arts martiaux et la magie mais elle ne pourra lancer son incantation finale qu’au moment où elle aura purifié suffisamment d’âmes de démons ou de guerriers du chaos. L’énergie maléfique quintessenciée convertie en lumière renverra alors l’armada malfaisante dans les enfers et restaurera la paix sur la planète durant un millénaire.

Dans le Grand Livre, malheureusement, il est également spécifié qu’une fois le destin de la Prophétesse accompli, son âme se séparera de son corps vidé de fluide vital et, ayant rendu son dernier soupir, elle s’élèvera ensuite vers le Ciel, nimbée de lumière divine pour rejoindre le Chœur des Purificatrices jusqu’à sa prochaine incarnation. Le texte relate cependant de très rares exceptions à cette règle avec des cas de survie datant tous mystérieusement des premiers Cycles Sacrés de l’Histoire du Monde…

En l’an de grâce 7584 de la 22e Ere, durant la Lunaison des Fleurs, les Astrologues ont observé l’apparition de l’Etoile de la Destinée dans un alignement parfait et rarissime des planètes nommé « Grande Conjonction », phénomène relaté dans les Ecritures. Les Sages ont ainsi décrété que la Princesse Ludwyna, tout juste venue au monde, était bien la nouvelle Dépositrice des Arcanes Célestes. Elle suit donc depuis sa tendre enfance un entrainement spécial pour se préparer à sa quête alors que l’ombre s’étend de plus en plus et que la guerre fait rage dans la contrée.

Elle porte les « Frou-frous de la Justice », la tenue cérémoniale des mystiques, aux étranges vertus nécessaires au rituel, transmise de générations en générations d’élues : toute de noir vêtue, avec plusieurs épaisseurs de longs jupons à volants et fioritures, un corset en velours fermé devant par des attaches busc et serré dans le dos par des lacets, une riche tunique brodée en satin aux manches bouffantes, des bottines de combat en cuir à talons aiguilles, des mitaines en dentelle, un nœud dans les cheveux, des bijoux en argent et un loup métallique traditionnel aux motifs entrelacés finement ciselés autour des yeux pour lui donner un air de justicière masquée…

La fougueuse héroïne livrant bataille depuis des mois remporte des premiers succès assez faciles et l’ennemi finit par prendre au sérieux la menace que la jeune fille représente et les légendes qui l’entourent.

Le chef des forces du mal a eu vent de l’existence d’un fragment obscur de la prophétie jusqu’ici inconnu. Et il a fini par mettre la main dessus durant ses guerres de conquête et ses pillages de tombeaux.

“D’après ce sombre extrait inédit de la Prédiction, le Commandeur des Légions du Chaos pourrait drainer et s’approprier le savoir merveilleux de l’Elue s’il arrive à vaincre et maitriser la mystique avant qu’elle ne pratique ce charme surpuissant.

Pour rendre les attaques magiques de l’aventurière et ses talents de combattante inefficaces, “l’Armure de Neutralisation”, un puissant artéfact, est nécessaire car cette protection permettrait de dévier les assauts occultes de la magicienne et d’atténuer l’impact de ses coups de pieds légendaires mais surtout, phénomène extraordinaire, d’en transmettre l’énergie pour renforcer les caractéristiques de la brute au fur et à mesure des chocs encaissés afin qu’il devienne un berserker inarrêtable.

Concernant l’appropriation du pouvoir ultime par les forces du chaos, il est également précisé que le Maître Diabolique devra déflorer la Sainte. L’Oracle Lumineux insiste sur la préservation de la virginité comme élément requis au contrôle de la Purification Sacrée par la druidesse. Mais seule la Révélation Lugubre dévoile que le viol de la pucelle transférera automatiquement ce terrible sort à son agresseur.

Un tel savoir ésotérique en sa possession serait alors perverti et provoquerait immanquablement le triomphe absolu et irréversible du mal.”

Cet écrit indique où est cachée cette carapace des damnés et le chef des monstres s’en est emparé.

Ainsi donc, Brutus Maleficius, un Ogre-démon impitoyable invaincu en combat singulier, aussi robuste qu’une montagne et tellement puissant qu’on dit de lui qu’il aurait étranglé simultanément deux ours à mains nues, revêt son armure hérissée de pointes et décide de traquer Ludwyna personnellement.

Depuis des siècles, les chefs des forces du mal se sont focalisés sur les invasions et la conduite de hatay escort leurs troupes sur les champs de bataille sans se soucier de cette légende jusqu’à subir par surprise l’Exorcisme Purgatoire de leurs armées. La stratégie de Brutus est toute différente :

Au lieu de continuer à envoyer sa horde se faire laminer, ce qui fournirait à la redresseuse de torts le Ki requis pour acquérir l’incantation finale, l’ogre cuirassé, s’estimant maintenant invincible, va au-devant de la Princesse dans le but de l’intercepter avant qu’elle ne soit prête.

La demoiselle ne se doute pas que son plus terrible ennemi la poursuit désormais et qu’il lui réserve le plus funeste des châtiments qu’une jouvencelle puisse connaître.

Bien trop sûre d’elle — car Mandataire du Ciel après tout! – la naïve et précieuse guerrière ne sait pas que son prochain adversaire sera d’un niveau bien supérieur à celui des sbires qu’elle a défaits. L’intrépide et prétentieuse pimbêche ne connait pas le contenu du Manuscrit du Crépuscule égaré depuis des éons et se dirige tout droit vers le piège fatal tendu par son ennemi juré… “

[Fin du prologue]

Bien préparé, surpuissant et protégé par l’armure maudite, le Commandeur des Légions du Chaos se met en marche. Il se lance dans une traque effrénée et poursuit la Purificatrice dont il repère les traces en sentant les effluves de son délicieux parfum. Il entend au loin le cliquetis des bijoux, le martèlement des talons hauts et le bruissement des frou-frous de l’adolescente en jupons alors que la mystique s’enfonce dans la sylve abondante sous le ciel nocturne.

Il est à ses trousses et pour la première fois, la fière magicienne chasseresse de monstres, inconsciente du danger, risque de devenir une proie. Le guerrier brutal a hâte de la rabattre dans un endroit clos d’où elle ne pourra pas faire demi-tour afin de lui régler son compte. Il sait exactement où conduire cette idiote pour avoir un avantage décisif. Au préalable, sachant qu’elle cherche à purifier un autre de ses vétérans afin de maximiser son mana pour lancer le Pouvoir Ultime, il a semé des indices et de fausses rumeurs pendant une semaine pour l’attirer au vieux Temple Maudit de Rakshamgur, ancienne forteresse détruite ayant appartenue à un de ses monstrueux ancêtres.

Au même moment, traversant cette ruine envahie par la végétation à la lisière d’une dense forêt sous les croassements macabres des corbeaux dans le lointain, la silhouette filiforme d’une jeunette vêtue d’une élégante robe princière de combat mystique noire assez extravagante emprunte un étroit sentier sortant des sous-bois qui finit par déboucher sur une petite clairière. Mais c’est une impasse, un cul de sac, une voie sans issue, peut-être même un traquenard : une barrière rocheuse infranchissable entoure le lieu. A la lumière de la pleine lune filtrée par les nuages apparait son visage à la peau blanche comme la crème, aux lèvres de nacre, aux yeux bleus intenses et aux joues roses encadrées par deux charmantes petites tresses dévoilant de fines oreilles légèrement pointues aux lobes assez développés d’où pendent des anneaux d’argent scintillants. La donzelle est déterminée à trouver le prochain général des forces du mal dont elle piste la trace depuis deux jours.

L’adolescente élancée se faufile et explore les parages, les yeux écarquillés derrière sa frange mutine. Pénétrant dans les vestiges du Temple du Grand Troll, abandonné depuis la XIVème Guerre, la Princesse inspecte les lieux, ses longs cheveux bouclés châtains clairs aux reflets blonds ondulent dans son sillage, suivant ses moindres mouvements de tête avec fluidité, attachés en arrière par un innocent nœud en satin noir formant une demi-queue de cheval dont la toison flamboyante retombe en cascade sur sa nuque et ses épaules, à la manière très en vogue chez les elfes.

Soudain, son intuition lui indique que le Mal rode. Elle ressent la présence maléfique d’un poursuivant à l’aura extrêmement puissante. Instinctivement elle accélère le pas pour voir s’il en a après elle ou s’il chasse un autre héros de passage. Par acquis de conscience, elle aiguise ses sens pour éviter un éventuel piège. Sa clairvoyance elfique ne la trompe pas. Elle entend maintenant l’écho lointain de craquements de branches suspects. Des bruits de pas lourds ébranlent bientôt le sol et se rapprochent, indiquant la présence malveillante d’une menace humanoïde épique de corpulence extrême, portant probablement une armure épaisse et très certainement dotée des pires intentions….

Peu rassurée, Ludwyna, sentant qu’on l’épie et comprenant qu’elle est bien la cible de cette mystérieuse créature, essaie de se camoufler en lançant un sort d’invisibilité temporaire. Elle décide de s’abriter derrière un mur partiellement effondré des vestiges de l’enceinte fortifiée de Rakshamgur pour pouvoir surveiller et analyser les actions de cet éventuel agresseur.

Elle ne le sait pas encore mais l’être qui la suit est le Maître des Forces du Chaos en personne. Constatant qu’elle est détectée malgré tout par ığdır escort ce sacré pisteur, la Princesse sort de son refuge, s’arrête, pivote sur ses appuis et fait volte-face, sur le qui-vive, parée à toute épreuve car déjà transformée en guerrière magique depuis son entrée dans la forêt maudite… C’est probablement le Général ennemi qu’elle cherchait à purifier. S’il vient à elle, c’est parfait! Inutile de jouer plus longtemps à cache-cache. Le voilà donc!… On ne peut pas le manquer…

IL est là. Grand, costaud, imposant, massif et menaçant ; bloquant la seule issue en faisant écran de son large corps : Des jambières n’ayant rien à envier à la circonférence d’un tronc de chêne centenaire, des avant-bras énormes renforcés de protections métalliques comme de solides écailles et une sordide armure du chaos terrifiante recouvrant une épaisse couche de muscles et de graisse.

Toute retraite est désormais illusoire et l’affrontement est inévitable!

Dévisageant la jolie frimousse de ce beau brin de fille drapée de taffetas et de soie, Brutus Maleficius est stupéfait car il s’attendait davantage à une bougresse large d’épaules en cotte de mailles lourdement armée et non pas à un tendron inoffensif semblant sortir d’un conte de fées : « Quoi? C’est toi le petit cul qui a mis à mal mes légions et terrassé mes chefs de guerre? Mais je vais t’étendre pour de bon et t’allonger en moins de deux! »

L’Ogre a un mauvais rictus aux lèvres. Le pouvoir secret de l’Elue sera bientôt à lui. Elle ne peut pas s’échapper. Il savoure ce moment, se pourléchant les babines, dévoilant des dents gâtées, sa langue chargée se promenant autour de ses badigoinces gercées, un filet de bave naissant à leur commissure. S’amusant à bander ses muscles noueux pour impressionner ce petit bout de bonne femme qu’il trouve très stimulante, il commence déjà à avoir de vilaines pulsions et des envies inavouables… Même sans la Prophétie Obscure pour le motiver, cette apparition séduisante et cette belle gueule de jeune première sont des tentations suffisantes pour qu’il soit en rut. Et effectivement, il est déjà très tendu sous son armure… Il a hâte de la prendre en main et de passer à l’action!

Mais à sa grande surprise, la coquette et avenante débutante ne se laisse pas démonter et campe devant lui du haut de son mètre septante avec assurance et un calme olympien, claquant des talons théâtralement pour faire résonner le sol, digne, altière, le ventre plat et le torse bombé, inclinant légèrement sa tête sur le côté pour mieux scruter ce Gargantua en le défiant :

“Arrière, monstre! Laissez-moi passer où vous le regretterez! Je suis sa Grâce la Princesse Ludwyna, Gwendoline, Faëriel, Myriade de Bryandal, l’Elue de la Prophétie qui combat les Forces du mal que vous représentez! Si vous me cherchez querelle, je vous affronterai en duel. Je bannirai votre âme de démon comme je l’ai déjà fait pour d’autres avant vous! Et je poursuivrais tous les Faiseurs de Ténèbres jusqu’en Enfer s’il le faut! En garde!

-AH! AH! AH! Ne me fais pas rire, pimbêche! Ce n’est pas une gamine endimanchée en tenue d’apparat pour aller au bal masqué qui pourra se confronter au pouvoir du chaos et à son Commandeur Suprême! Même perchée sur tes talons hauts pour prendre des grands airs, tu n’es pas de taille! Et tu ne fais pas le poids face à moi, cuisses de mouche!

-Pour triompher, il faudrait déjà que vous puissiez m’attraper, espèce de pachyderme! Je vous aurais averti, je ne me laisserai pas faire et pour y arriver il faudra me passer sur le corps!

-C’est bien mon plan, petite présomptueuse et je vais y prendre bien du plaisir! Ha ha ha! » dit-il de sa voix grave en faisant craquer ses articulations.

A ces mots, la magicienne, offusquée et choquée par ces propos indignes et grossiers, frémit de dégoût. Rougissante, la demoiselle respectable aux chastes oreilles, ne peut réprimer un mouvement de recul. Quel odieux personnage! Le genre d’énergumène qu’elle abhorre le plus… Ludwyna est écœurée par ce gros dégoutant. Elle qui est délicate, raffinée et princière doit faire face à cette espèce de sale brute mal dégrossie.

Toisant son ennemi, elle ne peut que constater son format mastoc. C’est un géant patibulaire. Immense, impressionnant et probablement sans une once de subtilité ni de compassion.

Passant élégamment sa main dans sa magnifique crinière foisonnante pour la remettre en place avec style, la sémillante Princesse adopte sa position d’attente fétiche : à moyenne distance, les épaules de trois-quarts bien relâchées, pour limiter les ouvertures, le bassin basculant légèrement frontalement, la jambe de devant tendue et celle de derrière fléchie, les bras alignés sur le même décalage, selon la « forme du Dragon », toutes griffes dehors, la mitaine gauche en protection haute près du visage et celle de droite, basse, contre le flanc, prête à jaillir. Pleine d’assurance et persuadée que le mal ne l’atteindra pas, l’adepte pontifie et tance son ennemi :

« Vous n’êtes qu’un mufle! Je ne suis pas celle que vous croyez! ısparta escort Me prenez-vous donc pour une coureuse de remparts? Pourtant vous devriez faire preuve de déférence envers moi. Vous n’êtes pas le premier mastodonte que je punis! Vous ne me faîtes pas peur! Tant pis pour vous! J’en aurai fini avec vous avant l’heure du thé! Au nom des frou-frous de la justice, je vais vous purifier! » fulmine-t-elle, gonflée d’orgueil et de suffisance, gesticulant un rituel de ses mains fines et gracieuses dans un mouvement ayant un sens codé ou mystique de conjuration échappant à la compréhension des non-initiés.

-C’est ça, fais la guerre en dentelle dans tes atours de petite dame de la cour mais tu pleurnicheras, gigolette, quand je te les aurai arrachés de force! Tu feras moins la maline et la fière tout à l’heure, diva! Je sais que tu ne maîtrises pas encore le Pouvoir Ultime, je me suis bien renseigné sur ton compte! J’ai bien compris que j’avais tout intérêt à anticiper notre rencontre car tu n’es pas tout à fait prête!

-Cela ne changera rien au final. Vous vous croyez invincible parce que vous êtes gras comme un cochon? Laissez-moi rire! Plus on est grand, plus on tombe de haut, c’est bien connu voyons! Mais assez d’échanges de politesses, démon. Attrapez-moi si vous le pouvez, mais permettez-moi d’en douter!» conclut la jeune femme espiègle avec un sourire malicieux et un air décidé, haussant les épaules face à ces dernières menaces.

Le combat qui va décider du sort du monde va commencer!

Ce sera une opposition de styles. Mais bien évidemment elle le vaincra comme tous les autres du haut de ses dix-sept printemps, puisqu’elle est l’Elue de la Prophétie, la Palatine Ludwyna, fille du roi des humains et de la reine des elfes!

Prenant une profonde inspiration faisant gonfler son arrogante poitrine, elle passe à l’attaque …

« Yaaahhhh!… » lance-t-elle, sa douce et cristalline voix contrastant avec sa farouche détermination.

L’imposant cousin des orcs et des trolls se met en position pour l’affrontement, frappant son buste avec ses gants comme le ferait un gorille énervé avec un air de « Viens-là si tu l’oses! ». Il veut voir de quoi cette minette est capable et si sa réputation est usurpée.

« Et alors? Tu vas faire quoi? Me menacer avec tes petits poings? Tu n’as pas encore compris à qui tu avais affaire? C’est ça, viens te frotter à moi, douce poupée de porcelaine! J’vais te faire un gros câlin avant de te casser en mille morceaux! » s’emporte le démon paré à toute épreuve.

La princesse se base sur sa stratégie habituelle de mélange de magie et d’arts martiaux. Elle est agile, vive et rapide. Elle est concentrée et très précise dans ses attaques, misant toujours sur sa souplesse et sa vitesse. Par conséquent elle utilise principalement des techniques de coups de pieds gracieux et privilégie l’esquive et les réflexes. Mais elle n’a que la constitution d’une adolescente certes fougueuse, dangereuse et bien entrainée mais crédule. Son défi est d’éviter de se faire assommer ou agripper et, le moment venu, d’utiliser ses attaques magiques quand elle aura concentré suffisamment d’énergie mystique.

L’Oni honni est lent, lourd et prévisible, mais est doté d’une force extraordinaire et d’une robustesse incroyable. Qui plus est, il est extrêmement endurant et résistant et se régénère rapidement.

Impitoyable, brutal et expérimenté… Il pratique les saisies, les prises, la mise à terre, les soumissions, les immobilisations, les baffes et utilise les genoux et les coudes déloyalement. Il a l’expérience de la guerre et aime tuer, piller et ravager.

Au début du combat, la jeune prodige évite facilement les attaques du colosse qui frappe dans le vide alors qu’elle virevolte autour de lui telle une ballerine.

« Je vois que tu connais bien les arts martiaux, comme le stipule la légende. Mais j’en ai vu d’autres, ma petite! Je vais t’aplatir comme une crêpe!

-Je consens à vous faire la grâce de ce duel parce que telle est ma destinée et que vous m’y avez contrainte, mais mes mouvements sont bien trop fluides pour vous. Je me déroberai sans difficulté car je suis une cible trop évanescente pour un faramineux lambin adipeux en armure tel que vous, sinistre patapouf phallocrate! » jase-t-elle, imbue, dédaigneuse et méprisante.

Elle utilise la force et la lenteur de son adversaire pour la retourner contre lui en le déstabilisant ou en plaçant une riposte.

Mais, la garde de ce guerroyeur est une vraie muraille et s’approcher c’est risquer de se faire prendre par son envergure redoutable. Néanmoins, l’audacieuse adolescente arrive à placer des attaques à travers la défense presque impénétrable de la brute.

Ses contres font mouche mais ses petits coups de mitaines en dentelle ou de bottines lacées en cuir à talons aiguilles n’entament pas la cuirasse de l’antagoniste, à sa grande surprise.

Primesautière et franche, la novice indomptable le défie avec insolence et candeur : « Alors? Songiez-vous vraiment pouvoir éviter le destin que vous réserve la Prophétie Lumineuse? Dans vos rêves! Vous avez perdu l’esprit, si tant est que vous n’en ayez jamais eu. Je parie que vous êtes impressionné par mes talents, n’est-ce pas? Vous m’avez sous-estimée parce que je suis une femme, mais je ne suis pas une fille comme les autres! Je ne me laisse pas faire!

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Mon arrivée sur le campus de l’université d’Austin au Texas s’était merveilleusement bien déroulée. J’avais débarqué quelques jours plus tôt et j’avais eu le temps de prendre mes marques, faire connaissance avec quelques élèves, connaître la disposition des lieux, décider de préférer le restaurant « Carillon » plutôt que la cantine… J’étais suffisamment sûre de moi pour aller frapper à la porte de la sororité Kappa Kappa Sigma. Il s’agissait de la sororité numéro un du campus, celle dont avaient été membres presque toutes les étudiantes qui avaient eu une carrière remarquable. Le bâtiment en lui-même avait la taille d’un hôtel particulier et était en brique rouge. Un grand porche s’étendait à l’entrée, soutenu par des colonnes doriques. C’était d’un goût douteux, mais cela pouvait impressionner pas mal de filles qui sortaient d’un trou perdu du Texas. Ce qu’il y avait de vraiment bien, c’est que la bâtisse était située à deux pas des bâtiments de cours.

Une jeune femme finit par ouvrir. Elle portait une mini-jupe rose et un t-shirt blanc où était imprimé en gros et en noir les lettres grecques de la sororité : KK Σ .

Pour s’habiller ainsi, ce devait être une des bizutes.

« Oui ? demanda-t-elle.

— Je voudrais voir la présidente.

— Euh… »

Elle referma la porte, sans rien dire de plus. Typique d’une bizute, impolie de peur de mal se comporter. Elle revint trois minutes plus tard avec une brune courte sur patte et au visage carré. Sa tenue était bien plus casual que celle de la bizute : un jean, des baskets et un t-shirt avec écrit dessus : « Obey Me ». C’était Brenda, j’avais déjà vu une photo d’elle et c’était elle que je voulais rencontrer.

« Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ? demanda-t-elle, assez mécontente qu’on vienne la déranger.

— Je veux intégrer Kappa Kappa Sigma.

— Eh bien, t’es en retard. La soirée des bizutes c’était hier. SI tu veux quand même intégrer notre chouette groupe, tu peux rester là, les mains sur la tête, sans bouger. »

Elle pointa du doigt un coin du perron où quatre jeunes filles se tenaient à genoux avec les mains posées sur la tête. Elles avaient vraiment l’air connes à attendre dans cette position de petite fille punie. D’ailleurs elles devaient en avoir conscience, car elles se mirent à rougir de honte quand je les regardai.

« Si je suis de bonne humeur et que j’en ai envie, on viendra te dire d’entrer… Cela dit, toi tu viens ici et tu me déranges pour des idioties ; alors je peux dire que tu es mal partie et que tu vas attendre longtemps… Je devrais peut-être même t’obliger à attendre en sous-vêtement pour rattraper ta bévue…

— Je suis Nancy.

— Enchanté, Nancy, mais j’en ai rien à foutre de ton nom. Par contre, tu vas retirer ton chemisier que je vois si t’as des gros seins pour compenser ta petite cervelle, ah ah ah…

— Nancy Steimer. »

Son rire s’arrêta net, son visage devint livide. Elle avala sa salive en cherchant quoi dire, puis elle balbutia :

« Oh… euh… tu veux peut-être entrer ? »

Je souris, je kiffais son changement de ton. Cette conne croyait me traiter comme une bizute, moi, la fille du doyen de l’école. J’allais lui faire payer son affront. Mais plus tard, quand j’aurais pris sa place. Parce que ma place était d’être au top de toutes les organisations auxquelles je participais ; que ce soit le club de badminton du quartier ou la plus prestigieuse sororité du campus.

J’entrai dans le bâtiment, une bizute se dépêcha de prendre ma veste. Elles avaient l’air bien formées : serviles, respectueuses et craintives. La présidente devait les mener à la baguette. Brenda me mena à travers le hall qui était orné des portraits des membres de la sororité ayant le mieux réussi, une avocate, une politicienne, une chef d’entreprise… Puis l’on arriva dans un salon cosy. Une bizute apparut dès notre entrée pour nous apporter ce qu’elle présenta comme des flûtes de champagne. Quand je m’assis dans un fauteuil, Brenda toussa un peu et expliqua :

« Nancy, je suis vraiment désolée, mais tu ne peux pas intégrer la sororité immédiatement. Ça fait partie de la charte de notre organisation… Mais dès la fin des épreuves des bizutes tu seras l’une des nôtres, ça te va ?

— Je suppose que je peux patienter…

— De toute façon, ce n’est qu’administratif, tu es la bienvenue pour venir ici chaque fois que tu en auras envie. On va même te préparer une chambre.

— Bien. Toi, tu es dans quelle chambre ?

— La deuxième à gauche à l’étage. Si tu veux me voir, tu peux y venir quand tu veux et…

— Ce sera ma chambre maintenant. Je te laisse un quart d’heure pour faire des valises, le temps que j’aille fumer une clope dehors. Ce sera tout pour l’instant, tu peux partir. »

Si un regard pouvait tuer, je serais morte à cet instant. Brenda dut prendre deux bonnes inspirations avant de pouvoir répondre :

« Bien sûr, ce sera fait immédiatement… Je pars m’en occuper. »

— Ne perds pas de temps… »

Je me tournais ensuite vers la fille qui m’avait apporté un verre.

« Et toi la bizute… eskişehir escort Comment tu t’appelles ?

— Julia, Madame.

— Et qu’est-ce que c’est que ce champagne ?

— Euh… du Frank Family…

— Petite sotte, ce n’est pas du Champagne, mais du vin pétillant. »

Je renversai mon verre sur sa tête et me levai pour partir. J’étais assez satisfaite que cette Brenda se soit quasiment mise à plat ventre devant moi. Même si j’avais déjà un grand logement à proximité du campus, ce serait sympa d’avoir une chambre ici. Cependant vivre dans une sororité avait des inconvénients, j’avais un petit copain, et je n’allais certainement pas baiser avec lui dans une des chambres de la sororité… Tout le monde m’entendrait quand qu’il me ferait jouir.

Mais vu que j’étais la fille du doyen, c’était normal que je sois à la tête de la sororité la plus prestigieuse. Et je pourrais toujours me servir de la chambre pour ranger des affaires.

Pendant les semaines qui suivirent, j’entrais parfois dans le bâtiment et m’amusais à me tenir au courant de ce que les bizutes subissaient. Certaines se faisaient corriger avec une énorme palette à fessée. Il s’agissait d’une planche avec un manche, le tout était en bois de chêne et gravé des lettres grecques de la sororité : KK Σ . La planche en elle-même mesurait trente centimètres, et provoquait une atroce douleur quand on frappait avec. Si je le savais, ce n’était pas parce qu’on m’avait fessée avec, mais parce que les étudiantes criaient comme des âmes damnées quand elles recevaient des coups.

On m’autorisa à corriger certaines bizutes. Car même si j’étais “techniquement” moi-même une bizute, j’étais, dans les faits, déjà une sœur… Et punir ces étudiantes idiotes se révéla agréablement jouissif. Même si elles tentaient de garder leur dignité au début, très vite, à mesure que les coups se succédaient, les filles criaient et pleuraient comme de vraies petites pucelles. Comme c’était une punition, elles devaient crier « Un » après le premier coup, puis « deux » au deuxième… Quand c’était moi qui tenais la planche, elles ne savaient jamais à combien elles allaient devoir monter… L’une d’elles dû compter jusqu’à cinquante… Tout ça parce qu’elle avait oublié de mettre son t-shirt KK Σ pour aller en cours… Pendant une semaine, elle ne put plus s’asseoir ou se rendre à l’université tellement elle avait mal au cul ! Je lui avais donné une leçon qu’elle n’oublierait pas de sitôt.

Pendant les fêtes entre sororité et fraternité, là aussi, j’étais déjà traitée comme membre. Je voyais certaines bizutes se faire alpaguer par des mecs et les suivre comme de petits toutous… Si elles voulaient avoir une chance de devenir sœurs, refuser les avances d’un membre d’une fraternité amie était mal vu. Je rigolais à chaque fois, à voir ces jeunes filles de bonne famille se comporter comme des putes pour espérer intégrer notre sororité… Jamais je n’aurais fait ça moi. J’avais de l’éducation et de la fierté, pas comme ces traînées… Et de toute façon, même si j’avais été dans leur situation, on ne m’aurait jamais attrapé par le bras pour tirer un coup rapide. J’inspirais trop le respect. Ils auraient dû faire des courbettes devant moi et tout ce qu’ils auraient gagné ç’aurait été un crachat bien placé entre les deux yeux. C’est moi qui choisissais avec qui je baisais, jamais l’inverse.

On arriva au week-end célébrant la fin des épreuves, où seules les bizutes les plus vaillantes seraient choisies pour intégrer la sororité. Brenda, assez gênée, se présenta à moi alors que je patientais dans son ancienne chambre.

« Nancy, il y a un petit problème… Pour devenir membre de notre sororité, il faut finir son initiation, et… eh bien, tu n’as pas fait une seule épreuve. Sans ça, tu ne peux pas devenir notre sœur.

— Brenda… tu as compris que si je n’intègre pas Kappa Kappa Sigma, je demanderais à mon père de fermer la sororité. »

Je vis Brenda pâlir devant cette menace explicite. Je respirai la peur qu’elle suait et m’en régalai.

« Je sais… mais ça n’empêche, ce sera une seule épreuve, une très facile, une simple formalité… Tu n’auras presque rien à faire, et comme ça toutes les sœurs te respecteront. Qu’est-ce que tu en dis ?

— Hum… Bof.

— Et en fait… à dire vrai, cette épreuve, c’est plus un cadeau de bienvenue pour toi… Je te jure que tu ne le regretteras pas. »

Et puis après tout, pourquoi pas ? Ça pouvait être amusant. Mais je vérifiais un point avant ça :

« S’il s’agit de recevoir des coups de la planche parce que tu penses que je suis une masochiste, tu oublies. En fait, je te préviens que si je n’aime pas ce qui m’arrive, ce sera à toi d’en assumer la responsabilité.

— Bien sûr ! T’inquiètes pas, je suis sûre de moi. »

Je l’accompagnai et descendis les marches, elle rejoignit les seniors de la sororité, tandis que je rejoignis les bizutes. Celles-ci étaient habillées en robe du soir et talons aiguilles tandis que moi je portais une simple jupe et un chemisier. C’était le dernier jour gaziantep escort de l’initiation, je sentais toutes ces petites bizutes fébriles, impatientes de devenir membre à part entière de Kappa Kappa Sigma. Cependant, ce n’était pas encore fait et elles restaient tendues, se demandant ce que Brenda pouvait leur réserver. La lumière était tamisée et la présidente ainsi que les autres sœurs portaient une robe en lin noire, comme dans un culte secret.

Brenda prit la parole, sa voix résonnant dans le hall :

« Toutes les dix, vous avez subi des outrages, des brimades… et pourtant vous avez tenu bon ! Vous êtes toujours là à vouloir devenir nos sœurs. Félicitations ! Cependant, une dernière épreuve parfaitement adaptée à vos capacités va vous être assignée. Cette épreuve jouera sur vos peurs les plus profondes, si vous parvenez à vaincre cette peur, alors vous deviendrez de vraies Kappa Kappa Sigma !

« Numéro une, Kelly, viens ici… »

Kelly, une jolie blackette s’approcha en se demandant ce qu’on lui avait réservé. Elle se présenta devant Lisa qui était en charge des bizutes. Celle-ci lui tendit un récipient, une coupe où était écrit « À la meilleure suceuse. » Brenda reprit la parole :

« Tu te doutes bien que tu ne mérites pas ce trophée… sais-tu le nombre de garçons de fraternité qui se sont plaints que tu recrachais leur sperme? Comment peux-tu refuser d’avaler quelques centilitres de foutre ? Tu te rends compte qu’avec ce genre de comportement stupide, tu fais honte à toute notre sororité ?

— Désolée, Maîtresse. Mais… je ne supporte pas le goût…

— Il faudra pourtant bien que tu le supportes, ce soir, au cours de la fête de fin de bizutage, tu vas remplir ce trophée de sperme, tu as jusqu’à minuit. Quand elle sera pleine, tu la boiras en entier… Si tu n’avales pas tout, ou que tu n’as pas réussi à remplir la coupe, tu auras raté ton initiation et tu seras rejetée. »

Kelly regarda le trophée avec terreur, il avait la contenance d’un gros bol à café. Malgré tout, elle ne protesta pas, elle s’inclina devant Brenda et répondit : « Merci, Maîtresse. »

Elle repartit rejoindre nos rangs, je pouvais voir de grosses larmes couler sur ses joues… Elle ne devait vraiment pas aimer le goût du foutre ; j’étais impatiente de voir si elle serait capable d’avaler le demi-litre sans rien recracher…

« Numéro deux, Julia, viens ici. »

Julia, une brune au visage doux et rond se présenta devant Lisa.

« À de nombreuses reprises, tu as montré que tu avais peur de te faire enculer. Tu penses que ton trou de balle est précieux ou quoi?

— Non, Maîtresse!

— Alors pour le reste de la journée, jusqu’à minuit, tu vas avoir ce plug anal enfoncé dans le cul. Approche-toi et retourne-toi… »

Julia hésita en regardant l’énorme plug que Lisa brandissait… Elle tourna la tête vers nous, espérant peut-être que l’une des bizutes prendraient sa défense… Espoir débile évidemment, j’étais impatiente de voir sa tête quand le plug serait introduit dans son trou du cul. Résignée, Julia s’avança, le teint pâle, et quand elle se retourna à côté de sœur Lisa celle-ci dit :

« Penche-toi. »

La bizute obéit, je pus voir son visage se mettre à se crisper quand l’index de Lisa posa une noisette de vaseline sur son petit trou, puis alors que la sœur commençait à introduire le plug métallique, Julia abandonna tout espoir de garder sa dignité et se mit à crier et à pleurer comme une idiote à mesure que le bouchon anal s’enfonçait en lui écartant l’anus. Quand le plug fut complètement enfoncé, elle revint vers nous les joues toutes rouges et en marchant comme un canard.

« Numéro trois, Nancy, viens ici… »

Je m’approchais, et pour la première fois j’étais un peu inquiète, mais pas paniquée. Je savais que si ça me déplaisait je pouvais tout arrêter, et ce serait sur Brenda que retomberaient les ennuis.

« Nancy, nous allons te mettre un bandeau sur les yeux… Cela montrera que tu es prête à nous faire confiance. Une fois ce bandeau sur les yeux, on te présentera un mec qui te baisera.

— Quoi! C’est hors de ques…

— Chut ! »

Lisa se pencha à mon oreille : « l’homme en question c’est Jerry, ton copain, ne t’en fait pas, c’est juste pour faire croire aux autres que tu passes une épreuve toi aussi. »

J’étais rassurée, Jerry était un type bien, qui ne ferait rien qui puisse me déplaire. Je les laissais me mettre un bandeau noir en coton épais sur les yeux. Je ne pouvais rien voir à travers et on me fit quitter le bâtiment. Encore une fois, je marchais avec assurance, sans crainte. Si on me jouait un sale tour, je ferais renvoyer Brenda de l’université, elle le savait.

On me prit par la main et on me mena jusqu’à une voiture. On me conduisit en auto cinq minutes avant de me faire descendre. Je marchai, entrai dans un bâtiment, j’entendis quelques bribes de conversation, puis je montai un escalier, une porte s’ouvrit, j’entrai dans la nouvelle pièce puis une des sœurs annonça :

« Tu peux t’asseoir. »

Je giresun escort m’accroupis avec précaution et mes fesses se posèrent sur un lit moelleux. On se déplaça à côté de moi et j’entendis la voix de Brenda contre mon oreille :

« Quand ton copain arrivera, fait comme si tu ne savais pas que c’était lui. Il nous a raconté qu’un de ses fantasmes, c’était de baiser une inconnue… On lui a dit que s’il mettait un bandeau sur les yeux, on lui ferait baiser une de nos plus belles bizutes… »

Ça ne me surprenait pas, il avait parfois des idées bizarres. Pourquoi vouloir baiser une inconnue, alors qu’il couchait avec moi ? Sans me vanter, j’étais quasiment un top-model, si je n’avais pas été si intelligente, j’aurais pu faire fortune en devenant l’égérie d’un grand couturier. Je pensais peut-être me présenter au concours de Miss America, mais j’avais peur d’être un petit peu trop petite, les blondes gagnaient plus souvent que les brunes et mes seins étaient un peu trop gros… Au final, il n’était pas sûr que je gagne.

Brenda continua :

« D’ailleurs, c’est pas tout à fait faux, tu es la plus belle de nous toutes… »

J’adorais quand s’aplatissait devant moi comme une carpette. Quand je serais une sœur, je la forcerai à me sucer les pieds, une lécheuse comme elle, elle devait faire ça bien.

« Quand il se rendra compte que c’est toi la bizute, il aura une dette envers toi, car il avait l’intention de te tromper. Tu pourras faire de lui ce que tu veux… Mais pour conserver le secret, il est important que tu ne parles pas.»

C’était assez vrai, je pourrais lui faire payer sa tentative de me tromper. Finalement Brenda n’était pas si cloche que ça, elle avait quelques bonnes idées de temps en temps. Alors que j’étais assise sur le lit, une des bizutes demanda : « Est-ce que tu veux qu’on te déshabille ? »

J’hésitais puis répondit : « Brenda peut le faire. »

Je voulais que cette petite prétentieuse se mette à genoux pour retirer ma culotte, qu’elle frôle mes magnifiques seins de ses doigts et se rende compte que ce n’était pas seulement intellectuellement qu’elle était inférieure à moi, mais physiquement aussi.

« Pas de problème, » répondit-elle.

Elle se mit à me déchausser, puis je me levai pour qu’elle détache ma jupe. Elle dut même se courber pour descendre ma petite culotte… J’étais déjà excitée qu’elle s’humilie ainsi. Quand je serais sœur de plein droit et que j’aurais pris sa place, je lui donnerai le rôle de servante. Chaque soir quand j’irai dormir, je la ferai sonner pour qu’elle me déshabille et chaque matin elle viendra dans ma chambre pour m’habiller comme si j’étais une princesse et elle mon esclave.

Elle retira finalement mon soutien-gorge, je l’entendis échouer à retenir son souffle alors que mes deux majestueuses montgolfières sortaient de leur soutien. Cette idiote avait dû penser que je portais des Wonderbras, quelle petite sotte. Tout était naturel chez moi.

Je m’étendis sur le lit… Une des sœurs mit de la musique jazzy très fort et quelques minutes plus tard la porte s’ouvrit à nouveau. Brenda déclara : « Le voilà, on vous laisse tous les deux… »

Je les entendis partir en faisant beaucoup de bruit, j’étais seule avec Jerry. J’hésitai à retirer mon bandeau, mais finalement je trouvais le principe amusant. Après tout, moi aussi j’avais envie d’imaginer que c’était un inconnu qui me baisait. Je me souvenais même avoir dit à Brenda :

« Regarde Gwen, avec son carton sur la tête… elle ne saura jamais quels sont les mecs qui l’on fourré… Ça me plairait presque, c’est excitant non? Enfin, si j’étais une salope, et pas une princesse, moi j’ai seulement un petit copain, mon prince charmant… »

Brenda avait dû y réfléchir, et c’était sa manière de faire un cadeau.

Je sentis la main de mon copain se poser sur ma tête. Je compris son intention. Je me penchai et mis sa queue dans ma bouche… il devait être intimidé par tout ce cérémonial, car il bandait moins dur que d’habitude. Je m’appliquai encore plus que d’ordinaire pour le faire se dresser pleinement. Il se taisait, seule la musique et les bruits de succion se propageaient dans la pièce. Jerry ne disait rien, sans doute lui avait-on recommandé de ne rien dire, pour que la bizute ne sache jamais qui l’avait baisé.

Ma langue passait et repassait sur son membre, pomper les yeux fermés changeait beaucoup de choses. On se rendait moins bien compte de la taille, on cherchait moins à faire une gorge profonde et plus à être aux petits soins, à lécher le gland avec attention, à saliver, à passer la langue aux endroits sensibles, qui le faisaient frémir…

Finalement, il émit un borborygme. Il devait en avoir assez de se faire sucer et voulait passer aux choses sérieuses. Il recula ma tête de sa main et je m’allongeai sur le lit. J’entendis le sommier craquer quand il monta dessus. Il n’était pas gros, mais grand et musclé, cela faisait du poids. Il saisit mes deux jambes qu’il écarta, toute cette situation m’émoustillait et j’étais déjà mouillée, j’avais un peu l’impression d’être une salope. Une femme ne sachant pas qui la baisait… Bien sûr, cela restait un fantasme, j’aurais détesté faire ça pour de vrai, mais juste prétendre que ce n’était pas mon copain… ça me plaisait. Sa queue s’enfonça dans ma fente, glissant en moi avec habileté, je me mordis les lèvres de plaisir.

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Coulybaca (Texte personnel)

Chapitre 8 : le recrutement de nouvelles gagneuses.

Attablé devant un verre de whisky, Ali faisait le point en compagnie de son frère et de ses sbires .

Cela faisait maintenant un mois qu’il avait lancé l’opération, aux dix pre-mières femelles, étaient venues s’ajouter six autres gagneuses, tout au-tant disponibles :

_ Une seconde Arlette, Arlette Dumas, son mari commissaire principale de police, à qui elle n’avait jamais avoué sa faute, ne devait jamais la connaître, aussi se pliait-elle aux injonctions d’Ali avec autant de bonne volonté que ses consœurs. Belle blonde sophistiquée, on lui aurait donné le bon dieu sans confession ; en fait elle se révélait ardente, chaude au lit, elle n’avait eu aucun besoin de formation complémentaire, que ce soit en bouche, en con ou en cul, ses dispositions naturelles lui permettaient d’épuiser le mâle le plus exigeant dans un minimum de temps.

Déjà elle s’était faite une clientèle particulière qui adorait couvrir cette belle femelle, jusqu’ici irréprochable, la couvrant de sperme, lui faisant prendre les positions les plus ignobles, contrastant fort avec son air in-génu.

_ Pour Isabelle Fournier, la femme du premier adjoint, commerçant en gros et Nicole Dulac, l’épouse d’un agent général d’assurances, le piège s’était refermé sur elle d’une toute autre façon.

Instruit par Aurore Lepan, de la tendre amitiè qui unissait les deux femmes, Ali soupçonna vite plus qu’un attachement amicale, après plusieurs jours d’espionnage, il découvrit le petit nid qui abritait leurs amours, à une vingtaine de kilomètres de Moulins.

S’en ouvrant à Solange et Clothilde, il apprit qu’elles ne pouvaient voir leurs amours étalés au grand public sans risquer le divorce, la mise au ban de la société Moulinoise, ce que dans leurs positions, elles ne pourraient supporter.

Bientôt le guet-apens fut prêt, le propriétaire du petit hôtel, contre la promesse, de s’envoyer à satiété les deux salopes, permit à Ali et Mohamed de remplacer un immense miroir au mur de la chambre qu’elles retenaient à chacune de leur visite, par une glace sans tain, permettant d’observer, de photographier de la piÈce voisine.

Il poussa la complaisance jusqu’à prévenir Ali, dès leur prochain rendez-vous. Confortablement installés, Ali et Mohamed prirent deux pellicules de leurs ébats intimes.

Ali aimait particuliÈrement un cliché, sur lequel on voyait la brune Nicole fesser de sa mule la plantureuse croupe de sa blonde amie, la photographie en couleur soulignait la rougeur du large fessier, démontrant amplement la cruauté du jeu.

Il ne dédaignait pas pour autant d’autres photos, ou elles se grouinaient avec entrain, tête bêche, se suçant mutuellement le clitoris, honorant leurs anus d’une langue curieuse, ou s’empalant sur des postiches doubles comblant leur deux intimités simultanément.

Celle qu’il leur avait envoyée les représentait intègrement nues, allongées l’une sur l’autre tête bêche, Isabelle fouillant d’une langue pointue la vulve luisante de sa tendre amie, tandis que Nicole écartant ses fesses à deux mains lui prodiguait une savoureuse feuille de rose.

Le lendemain, elles étaient au rendez-vous fixé, et pleurnichant acceptaient toutes ses conditions, comme l’avait prédit Aurore, leur position sociale ne pouvait leur permettre de voir étalée au grand jour leurs turpitudes.

René, le propriétaire de l’auberge, reçut leur visite dès le lendemain, dri-vées par Mohamed, elles devaient combler les désirs de leur délateur, en récompense de ses révélations.

Elles s’y employèrent avec résignation, les deux hommes se succédèrent entre leurs fesses, leurs cuisses et leurs lèvres.

Dans une folle après-midi, ils se permirent toutes les fantaisies, terminant par un savoureux sandwich dont Isabelle constituait la tranche de jambon.

Mohamed enfoui profondément au fond de son con et René la possédant puissamment par l’anus se firent lécher les burnes par Nicole, qui devait de la pointe de la langue agacer les deux verges plantées dans les orifices de sa belle amie.

Lorsque dolente, débordante de foutre, Isabelle resta affalée en travers de la couche, Nicole dut encore nettoyer les queues des deux salauds, puis elle lapa le foutre suintant de l’anus et du con de sa compagne, avalant d’un même coup de langue semence et cyprine mêlées.

Ravi de la conclusion de l’aventure, René se promit de surveiller tous les couples illégitimes qui pouvaient se rencontrer chez lui, décidé de signaler à Ali toutes les proies susceptibles de rejoindre son cheptel.

Pour Charlotte Vendè c’était encore mieux, René, le propriétaire de l’hôtel, avait prévenu Ali que depuis quelques semaines un couple venait furtivement deux fois par semaine, dans ce couple il lui semblait bien avoir reconnu Madame Vendè, jeune veuve de trente huit ans qui avait eu les honneurs de la presse quelques années plus tôt.

Son mari, gravement malade était décédé, laissant derrière elazığ escort lui un testament spécifiant qu’elle jouirait de ses rentes tant qu’il ne serait pas remplacé, au moindre épisode amoureux, légalisé ou non, le testament deviendrait caduque, l’héritage serait alors partagé entre de vagues ne-veux, qui depuis ce jour épiaient les faits et gestes de la belle héritière.

Il lui avait été facile de vérifier ces assertions, le décédé ayant déposé dans l’étude du mari de Sylvette.

A la grande joie d’Ali les faits s’étaient avérés réels.

A partir de ce moment, il sut qu’il ne tarderait pas à jouir d’une nouvelle pute.

Effectivement, la vue de la photo qu’il lui amena personnellement la convainquit immédiatement de plaquer son amant pour le remplacer par un souteneur impitoyable.

Le marché fut traité sur le canapé de Charlotte.

Une photo la représentant à quatre pattes sur le lit de l’auberge, l’anus défoncé par un énorme gourdin, le sphincter semblant cercler l’épais mandrin d’un bague de bronze suffit à la subjuguer.

Sur l’ordre d’Ali elle se déshabilla en sanglotant, il s’assouvit voluptueusement dans ses reins, dans sa bouche et dans son con, avant de lui annoncer son esclavage à venir.

Pour elle le choix était simple, ou elle acceptait de se soumettre, troquant son silence contre quelques après midis chargées, et quelques soirées bien remplies chaque semaine, ou elle refusait et se verrait contrainte de renoncer à la vie aisée, confortable, à la position enviée que lui conférait l’héritage de feu son mari.

Sanglotant, elle accepta toutes ses conditions, promettant de se prosti-tuer pour lui s’il n’informait pas les éventuels héritiers de son inconduite.

– Avec Jeannine Duclos, l’affaire devenait croustillante, cette sémillante brune de trente cinq ans passait pour un bastion inattaquable, femme du plus gros promoteur de la région, elle profitait de son oisiveté pour militer dans toutes les associations bien-pensantes du lieu, décernant des prix de vertu, ses jugements définitifs conféraient à ses victimes une auréole de vertu ou le titre de fieffée salope, ce qui les excluait automatiquement du cercle des gens bien, leur fermant les portes des réceptions de bon ton.

C’est avec joie que Clothide et Solange qui s’étaient fait égratigner par ce parangon de vertu, apprirent qu’elle entretenait des relations bizarres avec son beau-fils, fruit d’un premier mariage de son mari.

Une longue vue braquée sur la villa de la jeune femme permit à Ali de vérifier les faits, cependant il eut bien du mal à leur tirer le portrait en si-tuation vraiment inavouable.

Il possédait déjà quelques photos ou on la voyait embrasser passionné-ment son jeune amant, mais cela ne suffisait pas à prouver la relation incestueuse, lorsqu’un après-midi, de faction devant la villa, il vit s’absen-ter les deux domestiques, il s’en réjouit, pensant que les deux amants se montreraient moins méfiants de ce fait.

La suite lui démontra qu’il avait raison, le jeune homme, se croyant à l’abri des regards indiscrets se dévêtit et plongea nu dans la piscine, après quelques évolutions, Charlotte, en maillot une pièce vint le rejoin-dre, il projeta de l’eau sur elle, l’agaçant jusqu’au moment ou elle plon-gea à son tour dans l’eau.

Dès ce moment, Ali se mit à mitrailler les acteurs qui chahutèrent tout d’abord innocemment.

Soudain, il vit la belle brune se raidir contre le muret de la piscine, la main du jeune homme agrippa les bretelles du maillot, dénudant lasci-vement son buste, elle se laissait faire, tendant la poitrine, offrant ses mamelons à la bouche humide de son beau-fils qui les lui suçait tendre-ment.

Après quelques minutes de ce tendre jeu, le jeune étalon la repoussa sur le bord de la piscine, se tortillant, elle se conforma à son désir, s’extir-pant de son maillot collant.

Jambes grandes ouvertes, assise sur le rebord de la piscine, elle offrait sa déchirure aux coups de langue habiles de son amant, qui lui suçotait maintenant le clitoris, remontait le long des babines, introduisait la pointe de sa langue dans l’anneau ridelé, au cœur des fronce brunes de son anus.

Secouée de spasmes violents, elle ne put résister longtemps à ce régime, elle l’attira sur elle, puis roulant sur son corps, elle s’empala avec frénésie sur sa bite frémissante.

Ignorante du danger, c’est avec fougue qu’elle se livra une bonne partie de l’après-midi aux tendres ébats, se vissant sur la queue raidie, l’absor-bant jusqu’à la racine, la trayant de son ventre avide avant de lui rendre de la bouche de la vigueur.

Les dernières photos prises par Ali, les représentait cote à cote alanguis, les yeux dans le vague, la main du jeune homme insérée entre les jambes de la belle brune, qui masturbait lentement la bite apaisée, cher-chant machinalement à lui soutirer quelques gouttes de plus.

En plein cinéma, lors de la projection d’un documentaire sur la condition erzincan escort des femmes en Afrique, film qui précèderait un débat hautement instruc-tif sur la question, Ali prit la place d’Aurore assise à ses côtés.

Sachant que toutes les places alentours étaient occupées par ses créa-tures, Ali put en toute discrétion soumettre à l’examen de la jolie femme les photos scabreuses la concernant.

Elle s’empourpra, renifla, ferma les yeux, anéantie.

Catastrophée, elle ne repoussa pas la main du jeune arabe qui s’insi-nuait sous sa robe, remontait le long de ses cuisses nues, touchait le fond de sa culotte.

Ce n’est qu’à ce moment qu’elle serra violemment les jambes, emprison-nant la main aventureuse, tout en jetant de rapides coups d’œil alen-tours, craignant de se faire remarquer.

Lui pinçant le gras des cuisses, Ali la menaça, de monter dans la cabine de projection, pour projeter sur le grand écran des diapos du même ton-neau.

Haletante, elle ne put que murmurer :

-Petit salaud… Q’est ce que vous voulez… Vous n’imaginez tout de même pas que …

– Non seulement j’imagine, mais je peux t’assurer que si dans dix secondes tu n’as pas fourré ta culotte dans ma poche, ton image va s’étaler en surimpression sur l’écran! ….

– Non …. C’est pas possible …. Non …..Non….., gémissait elle tout en faisant glisser l’ultime rempart de sa vertu le long de ses cuis-ses, l’enfouissant ensuite dans la poche de son ignoble maître-chanteur.

-Tu vois, si t’es raisonnable, tout se passera bien… Ouvre bien grand tes cuisses …. Je veux te tâter le con!

Désemparée, elle obéit, écarta en grand son compas, offrant aux doigts fouineurs la totalité de son ventre crispé.

Il aventura d’abord un doigt entre les lèvres charnues, puis il caressa len-tement toute la figue crispée, enfonçant un doigt dans le vagin puis l’anus de la jeune femme éperdue.

Elle ne pouvait s’agiter, se refusant à signaler l’agression dont elle était l’objet, aussi se laissait-elle passivement caresser, cherchant à dissimuler le plaisir naissant dans ses lombes.

La prenant par la nuque, il la força à prendre son chibre tendu entre les lèvres, il lui appuyait sur la tête l’obligeant à accomplir une fellation acceptable.

Enfoncé jusqu’à la garde entre ses lèvres, il ne tarda pas à lui embourber la gorge, lui déversant des flots de sperme dans l’arrière gorge, qu’elle avala en hoquetant.

Anéantie, catastrophée, elle se leva alors, suivant ses ordres et accom-pagnant son maître-chanteur Aurore elle dut se rendre aux toilettes.

Aurore faisant le guet, elle entra dans les WC pour dames, et sur l’ordre d’Ali se pencha en avant, mains posées sur la faïence blanche.

Tout de suite, elle sentit une main masculine relever sa jupe, dévoilant sa croupe crispée, ses deux globes opulents couverts de chair de poule, une énorme pine parcourut son profond sillon avant qu’un gland épais ne presse son anus.

Révulsée d’horreur, elle sentit deux mains écarter largement ses fesses, livrant son trou secret en spectacle, l’inconnu qui la menaçait de son chibre hors norme se régalait à la vision de son oeillet fripé, ridelé, contracté par l’angoisse et la honte, d’un coup sec le gland s’engagea dans le tunnel rétracté, la laissant s’habituer quelques secondes avant de la pourfendre d’un grand coup d’estoc, la déchirant avec force, empalée jusqu’à la garde, elle se retourna pour identifier son agresseur et vit un grand noir, souriant à grandes dents en s’enfonçant dans son boyau, tandis qu’Ali photographiait sa déchéance.

Eperdue, secouée d’importance par son enculeur, pleurant à chaudes larmes elle subit sa lubricité jusqu’au bout, s’efforçant de se dilater au maximum pour amoindrir la douleur irradiant de ses lombes.

Enfin, à bout, elle sentit la grosse queue qui la remplissait toute se dilater encore, puis projeter des flots épais et gras au fin fond de son rectum.

Comme égarée, folle d’humiliation, elle se retournait pour quitter ce sinistre endroit, témoin de sa déchéance, une nouvelle bite sombre se présenta à sa bouche, alors qu’un gros nord africain, la bousculant s’asseyait sur le siège des WC.

L’attirant à lui, le gros arabe enfourna sa queue dressée dans son ventre vierge de toute lubrification.

Incendiant son vagin, il s’imposa avec vigueur dans son conduit à vif, tandis que le braquemart sombre s’engloutissait entre ses lèvres brûlan-tes.

Sous les éclairs du flash, se tortillant sur le pivot érigé, elle dut sucer goulûment la pine frémissante qui lui déformait la bouche, s’enfonçant comme un coin dans sa bouche.

La joie de ses suborneurs de profaner la belle blonde en pleurs était telle que quelques instants ils s’exonérèrent l’un au fond de sa gorge, l’autre au fond de sa matrice.

Le cul et le con débordant de semence, le sperme coulant lentement de ses ouvertures naturelles poissant son entre fesse, les papilles imprégnées du erzurum escort goût acre du sperme de son chevaucheur de tête, elle réintégra la salle sous l’œil ironique d’Aurore et ses consœurs, conscientes que dorénavant elles les accompagnerait dans leurs soirées de débauche.

Effectivement, la prude Charlotte eut beau tempêter, supplier, pleurnicher, sangloter, la semaine suivante elle se rendait dans le foyer le plus proche, et sous la conduite de Mohamed proposait ses reins son ventre et sa bouche à la salacité d’une vingtaine de clients déchaînés.

Sa vie changea du tout au tout, son beau fils se vit expédié dans une université lointaine, quittant avec regrets et sans explications ce corps sensuel dont il tirait tant de plaisir, alors que sa maîtresse, se conformant aux prescriptions de ses maîtres, vendait son corps, un jour sur deux à leur profit.

Pour la sixième recrue, ce fut encore plus facile, René signala un mardi la présence dans la chambre au miroir, de la femme du procureur du tri-bunal, âgée de trente ans la blonde Mylene Servant trompait son ennui en jouant discrètement les grues.

Ses fantasmes l’avaient poussées à racoler discrètement des clients, les entraînant dans une auberge dérobée, ou contre rétribution elle leur fai-sait don de ses orifices.

Quelques photos expressives suffirent à la convaincre de mettre ses ta-lents au service d’Ali et consort en échange de leur silence, et depuis ce jour elle se livrait avec le plus grand plaisir aux clients les plus exigeants, trouvant son plaisir dans l’accomplissement de ses fantasmes les plus pervers.

René qui avait été l’un des premiers à s’en servir avait signalé à Ali les aptitudes particulières de cette belle blonde, qui pouvait accueillir au fond de sa gorge les bites les plus conséquentes, prenant son pied en livrant son anus et son con aux bites les plus extravagantes.

Le club masculin, informel s’était aussi constitué, chaque membre per-manent portait une grosse chevalière ornée d’une tête de loup, à sa vue, chaque femelle du staff se pliait au moindre volonté du porteur, quelque soit l’endroit ou l’heure de la rencontre.

Ainsi, lors de déjeuners mondains, de bals de bienfaisance ou d’après midis récréatifs, elles pouvaient toutes se faire aborder et contenter des clients parfois exigeants.

Lors du dernier gala de bienfaisance auquel participaient Clothilde Au-rore et Mylène, elles devisaient gaiement, grisées par l’atmosphère cha-leureuse de la soirée, dans cet aréopage, elles se croyaient à l’abri de toute mauvaise surprise, lorsqu’elles virent un petit groupe d’invités s’ap-procher d’elles, les quatre hommes arboraient la maudite bague, elles ne les connaissaient pas, et pourtant elles savaient qu’elles devraient se mettre entièrement à leur disposition.

Les prenant par le bras, ils les entraînèrent vers l’étage, à peine dans l’escalier, elles sentirent des mains moites enquêter sous leurs robes, vérifiant leurs tenues : croupes dénudées encadrant des bas sombres soutenus par des porte jarretelles de couleurs vives.

Aurore qui montait au côté de Clothilde trébucha, un doigt impérieux ve-nait de lui forcer l’anus, les fesses serrées elle continua de gravir les marches, examinant la croupe dénudée de Mylène qui dansait devant elle, une main fourrée dans l’entrejambes.

Dès arrivé sur le palier, l’un des quatre se mit en faction, tandis qu’ils pé-nétraient dans une chambre vide, Aurore agenouillée prit entre les lèvres la grosse queue brune que lui tendait un cinquantenaire bedonnant, elle la mâchouilla longuement, tandis que Milène jetée sur le lit, gisant sur le dos, dans le désordre de ses jupes relevées offrait son corps gracile aux assauts d’un grand blond tout aussi membrè, à quatre pattes à ses cô-tés, Clothilde écartait de tous ses doigts son oeillet, le défripant, en éca-rtant les fronces pour mieux dévoiler son intérieur blanchâtre, d’un seul élan, brisant d’un seul coup tous les obstacles, son client l’embrocha jusqu’à la garde, lui repoussant les boyaux, les déplient en force pour faire son logement.

Déjà celui qui chevauchait Milène se vidait au fond de sa matrice, lui en-joignant de se placer à quatre pattes au côté de Clothilde et d’ouvrir tout grand son cul, il remplaça le factionnaire de guet.

Entrant dans la pièce, ce dernier découvrit Aurore, la bouche pleine du sexe de son client, lèvres bien arrondies autour du cylindre, coulissant lentement sur la hampe rigide, Clothilde, enculèe jusqu’aux couilles qui, d’avant en arrière, s’empalait au maximum sur le gros chibre qui la comblait et Milène s’écartelant la blessure, cambrant les reins, offrant en toute obscénité l’accès de son con ou de son cul selon son envie, il fourragea dans sa braguette, en sortit une énorme bite brune qu’il détrempa d’abord dans le vagin de la belle blonde, puis lui planta roidement dans le fondement, Milène qui voyait depuis quelques temps se concrétiser ses fantasmes les plus pervers, se mit immédiatement en branle, roulant des hanches, par de savants retraits et douloureuses intromissions chercha son plaisir, enfin dans un hoquet de plaisir il lâcha un torrent de foutre au cœur de ses intestins, tandis qu’Aurore la bouche pleine de sperme visqueux regardait Clotilde en prendre à son tour plein le cul.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Marguerite! Son prénom n’était pas banal. Son Curriculum Vitae l’était plus. S’il avait suivi la règle qu’il s’était fixé, il aurait du déposer sa candidature sur les postes refusés. Mais il ne suivit pas la règle, pour elle, à cet instant précis. Quelque chose dans sa photo retint son attention. Il avait envie d’interviewer cette jeune femme. Pour être honnête il désirait croiser son regard. Le sien se perdit dans le paysage qui s’offrait à lui.

Philippe occupait un bureau d’angle au 12ème étage de la tour Gan à La Défense. La vue qu’il avait sur la Seine, en contrebas, et sur Paris était stupéfiante. Il restait parfois de longues minutes à contempler l’écoulement du fleuve, se vidant peu à peu de toutes ses pensées et ses angoisses, se rechargeant d’énergie comme s’il puisait au fond de cette eau boueuse et polluée ses sources d’inspiration. La vue de ce bureau l’avait décidé à s’installer dans ces locaux, alors qu’il détestait ce quartier d’affaires. Il n’y avait que des hommes d’affaires précisément, et leur vue le déprimait. Il n’avait jamais endossé un costume ni mis une cravate de sa vie, et cela ne l’avait pas empêché de réussir socialement, si tant est que cela eut une importance pour lui.

Il avait créé cette société de marketing direct et de promotion il y avait un peu plus de 5 ans maintenant. Il aurait voulu pouvoir garder une taille modeste, ne pas dépasser la dizaine d’employés qu’il avait engagés très rapidement, mais cela s’était avéré impossible. La pression des clients, l’intérêt des contrats présentés, l’équilibre économique de l’entreprise, l’avaient poussé à grossir et à se développer. Son plus gros client désirait même qu’il s’installe dans différentes villes d’Europe. Il avait refusé, mais sa position devrait sans doute évoluer, ou alors il vendrait. Il avait recruté chacun des 150 employés actuels de l’entreprise, et disposait même d’un vrai conseil de direction, ce qui le déchargeait de beaucoup de taches, il s’en réjouissait.

Il y avait deux forces qui le motivaient chaque matin à se bouger. La création d’abord. Pas celle des artistes, mais plus celle liée à l’innovation. Sans qu’il ne fasse rien de particulier, il avait toujours quelques années d’avance sur les tendances de fond, et disposait ainsi d’un sérieux atout, que ses clients avaient tôt fait de repérer. La gestion des hommes ensuite. Son approche aurait sans doute été qualifiée de paternaliste. Il aimait connaître personnellement ses employés, essayant de répondre à leurs impératifs personnels autant que l’entreprise pouvait se le permettre, ce qui ne l’empêchait pas de passer pour un dur.

Ses collaborateurs l’avaient poussé à engager une assistante. Il n’en avait jamais eue, et n’en désirait pas. Ceci étant, il était de plus en plus difficile à joindre et avait besoin d’un peu d’aide dans son organisation. Aussi s’était il laissé convaincre. Son DRH (Directeur des Relations Humaines) avait posté une annonce à l’ANPE mais Philippe désirait faire le tri lui-même. Il voulait une assistante qui soit au chômage. A la fois pour créer un emploi, mais aussi par pragmatisme. Il savait qu’à compétence égale, elle lui serait plus reconnaissante et serait sans doute bien plus motivée. En moins de 10 jours il reçu plus de 150 candidatures, il était effondré. Les temps étaient vraiment durs pour tout le monde. Il avait sélectionné 6 candidates, qui semblaient polyvalentes, débrouillardes, avec une expérience suffisante pour comprendre le fonctionnement d’une entreprise. Plus Marguerite qu’il avait ajouté à la liste, alors qu’elle était déjà employée ailleurs.

*****

La journée avait été chargée et plutôt stressante, mais comme il le faisait avant tous ses rendez vous, il prit quelques minutes pour faire le vide et être tout à cette prochaine activité. L’été se terminait, et les couleurs de la forêt étaient somptueuses, illuminée par un soleil couchant. Il avait très envie d’aller faire un footing en rentrant le soir à la maison, autour du lac, comme tant d’autres sportifs, ayant besoin de décharger les toxines de la journée.

Il la fit rentrer, et lui proposa de s’asseoir sur son canapé plutôt qu’à son bureau. Son cœur battait inexplicablement.

Elle était très brune, avec de longs cheveux foncés, raides, qu’elle retenait avec un bandeau bleu clair. Son visage était calme, contrastant avec la profondeur de son regard noisette qui brillait. La première chose qu’il nota fut sa douceur. De sa voix, de sa peau, de son comportement. Elle semblait précautionneuse de tout, de son énergie comme de la place qu’elle pouvait occuper. Elle s’était installée dans un coin du canapé, les jambes serrées, de côté, les mains posées sur ses cuisses, attendant.

Il lui expliqua en quelques mots l’histoire de la société, ses activités, son besoin et aussi son absence de savoir faire avec une assistante.

« Et si nous parlions de vous maintenant que vous savez tout de moi?

-Je suis à votre disposition lui répondit elle doucement.

-Quelle est votre réaction par rapport au tableau que je viens de vous dépeindre?

-Je suis très motivée, ce que vous me proposer kuşadası escort est vraiment nouveau, et c’est ce que j’aime, les défis, aller plus loin. J’avoue que je ne connais rien à votre métier, mais j’adorerais apprendre.

-Quelle est votre activité actuellement?

-Je suis en fait l’assistante de 4 cadres supérieurs. Cela me rend la vie vraiment impossible puisqu’ils veulent toujours tout en même temps. Et puis cela m’empêche vraiment de m’investir dans une relation avec mon patron, ce qui me semble quand même l’essence de mon travail.

-Que voulez vous dire par vous investir dans une relation avec votre patron? Il était assez interloqué par le double sens constant de ses propos. Interloqué et assez excité. Il sentait bien au poids de plus en plus lourd dans son estomac qu’elle lui plaisait terriblement.

-Une assistante est là pour assister, et je crois qu’elle doit être intime avec son patron pour sans cesse essayer de deviner ses attentes, le soulager de tous les détails, être à sa disposition.

-Sans doute, mais cela demande beaucoup de disponibilité. J’avoue que les 35 heures chez nous sont un vœu pieu, et que tout le monde travaille beaucoup plus. Vous êtes mariée je crois?

-Oui je suis mariée, mais mon travail est plus important. Cela ne me fait pas peur de faire de grandes journées, et pourquoi pas devoir travailler le week-end parfois s’il le faut. Ce n’est pas mon problème, bien au contraire. Là où je suis actuellement, j’ai l’impression de m’encroûter et je m’ennuie.

-Vous avez des enfants?

-Non.

-Et vous désirez en avoir?

-Oui bien sur. Cela vous pose un problème.

-L’inverse m’en aurait posé un, je dois vous l’avouer. Il souriait, elle lui plaisait décidément. Nous avons en permanence une employée en congé de maternité, et je trouve cela génial à chaque fois, même s’il est vrai que ce n’est pas facile à gérer!

-Et vous avez-vous des enfants?

-Non, pas encore. Elle avait posé cette question doucement, comme tout ce qu’elle faisait, mais il la trouvait très culottée. Ceci étant elle ne faisait que lui retourner ses propres questions!

-Pourquoi travaillez vous? Il reprenait le contrôle de l’entretien qui risquait de déraper gravement et il ne l’aurait pas supporté!

-Pourquoi je travaille? Pour gagner de l’argent!

-Non en fait ce n’est pas pour cela. Elle reprit, j’aime travailler, je me sens utile, je suis faite pour cela. J’aime servir un patron, l’admirer, le guetter. Je trouve cela très gratifiant d’aider ainsi une entreprise en déchargeant son patron de toutes les tâches pour lesquelles moi je suis faite.

-J’ai sélectionné plusieurs profils de jeunes femmes qui sont également très motivées par ce poste. A votre sens, et sans les connaître, pourquoi devrais je vous choisir?

-C’est difficile sans les connaître. Mais parce que je suis à la fois très motivée, mais aussi très souple et docile. Je me comporterai comme vous le voudrez, et vous verrez, je me débrouille très bien pour tout, classement, réunions, organisation de congrès, voyages. Peut être aussi le plus important est il que le courant passe entre nous, vous ne croyez pas?

-C’est très subjectif comme notion, vous ne croyez pas?

-Je ne sais pas, moi je sens que le courant passe. Vous savez un patron passe plus de temps avec son assistante qu’avec sa femme.

-Je ne suis pas marié. Mais pourquoi avait-il donc dit cela? C’était stupide.

-C’était une image Monsieur.

-Quel est votre délai de disponibilité Mademoiselle.

-1 mois de préavis à donner. Mais je ne dois pas vous cacher que j’ai dit à mon entreprise mon désir de partir. Peut être vont-ils me proposer quelque chose qui me plaise plus.

-Je comprends. Surtout que nous sommes tout petit comparés à eux, nos possibilités d’évolution sont nécessairement plus limitées. Quelle rémunération désirez vous?

-Je touche aujourd’hui 20 000 Euros bruts annuels.

-Très bien. Laissez moi une semaine et je vous donnerais notre réponse.

-Merci beaucoup de m’avoir reçue.

-Je vous raccompagne »

Sa démarche dans les couloirs était très sensuelle. Elle lui avait donné l’impression d’être assez ronde, et pourtant elle était fine, simplement charnue à ces endroits qui plaisent tant aux hommes. Lui y compris. Ses hauts talons la grandissait d’au moins 10 centimètres. Il avait très envie de la faire revenir dans son bureau, fermer sa porte à clé et sauter sur elle. Cela ne lui était jamais arrivé auparavant, un tel désir, mais en même temps cela le rassurait, tellement il sentait sa libido à l’abandon depuis sa rupture avec Elisabeth, 6 mois auparavant. Ils se serrèrent la main, la porte de l’ascenseur se ferma et il resta pensif sans même entendre les salutations de collaborateurs qui rentraient chez eux.

*****

De retour d’un rendez vous à l’extérieur, Philippe se lavait les mains lorsque Alain, le DRH le rejoignit pour le point hebdomadaire qu’ils avaient ensemble.

« Quel est l’ordre du jour Alain? J’ai 45 minutes à te consacrer.

-Nous devons finaliser l’embauche kocaeli escort de ton assistante, que tout le monde attend avec impatience. Puis passer en revue les primes du mois que tu voudrais attribuer, me signer l’ordre de virement des salaires et je voudrais 5 dernières minutes pour te parler de choses personnelles.

-Commençons par les choses personnelles, c’est le plus important. Tu as des soucis, quelque chose qui ne va pas?

-Je n’ai pas de soucis personnels, je te remercie, mais je me fais du souci pour toi.

-Tu es gentil, mais cela me regarde, non?

-Philippe, s’il te plaît, tu m’as donné 5 minutes, écoute au moins ce que j’ai à te dire.

-Oui tu as raison, je t’écoute. Quels sont donc ces soucis qui me concernent?

-Tu bosses comme un fou depuis des années, mais depuis quelques mois c’est devenu de pire en pire. La rumeur qui court c’est que tu dors au bureau. Tu es le premier le matin, et tu vires les créatifs quand tu pars vers 23h. Tu prends de moins en moins le temps de manger, tes traits se creusent, tu as l’air vraiment à bout.

-Vraiment? Pourtant je me sens bien, tu sais. C’est gentil de prendre garde à ma santé.

-Je ne crois pas que tu ailles bien. Tu devrais faire un bilan médical, prendre plus de repos. Tu es devenu plus irritable, moins à l’écoute qu’avant. Pourtant la boîte marche très bien, tu as une équipe en qui tu as confiance, et nous n’avons plus de problèmes de trésorerie.

-Tu sais, mon problème, je crois, c’est que plus rien ne m’intéresse en dehors de la boîte. Je trouve tout assez fade et ennuyeux.

-Tu ne crois pas que tu déprimes?

-Pour un déprimé, je tiens pas mal le choc, non?

-Tu ne peux pas faire que travailler. Tu dois avoir une vie en dehors. Le départ d’Elisabeth ce n’est pas la fin du monde, il y aura d’autres femmes, j’en connais au moins 10 qui tueraient père et mère pour dîner avec toi.

-Le départ d’Elisabeth, c’est moi qui l’ai voulu, et aujourd’hui elle m’en remercie. Mais elle est difficile à remplacer. Ceci étant, tu as raison, il faut que je prenne un peu plus de temps pour autre chose, sinon je vais me scléroser. Bon sujet suivant. Il sentit Alain soupirer, mais il l’avait bien compris, il fallait simplement qu’il y réfléchisse un peu.

-Bon, passons donc sur la prochaine perle qui viendra s’occuper de toi. Tu as vu 7 personnes, j’ai vu leur CV, j’ai validé leurs expériences passées, pas de problèmes particuliers.

-Elles sont toutes très bien, une mieux que les autres, mais je ne peux la retenir.

-Laquelle?

-Marguerite de Saint je ne sais quoi.

-De Saint Chamas, oui, c’est curieux d’ailleurs la seule que tu aies sélectionnée et qui soit en poste. Et pourquoi si elle est si bien tu ne la retiens pas?

-J’ai ressenti un coup de poing au ventre en la voyant, il est hors de question qu’il y ait la moindre histoire d’attirance entre moi et mon assistante. Et puis quoi encore.

-Tu sais cela se voit assez fréquemment, c’est sûrement la proximité de la fonction qui fait cela.

-Dois je te rappeler les principes de la maison? La voix de Philippe s’était faite coupante. As-tu oublié le licenciement l’année dernière de Roland pour harcèlement sexuel? Je ne tolèrerais pas le moindre harcèlement et le moindre autoritarisme dans mon entreprise! Et je suis là pour montrer l’exemple!

-Oui, et nous t’en sommes tous éternellement reconnaissant, oh grand soleil des hauts de Seine! Alain était le seul à pouvoir se moquer ainsi de Philippe, qui rit de bon cœur avec lui. Mais sa moquerie masquait aussi une profonde admiration, il avait 15 ans de plus que Philippe et il en avait connu des patrons qui auraient au contraire profité de leur situation pour un droit de cuissage qui, s’il faisait partie hélas du paysage de l’entreprise, n’avait aucun fondement historique.

-Parmi les 6 qui restent, fais une proposition à Yasmina, elle à l’air bien et vraiment dans la mouise financièrement. Par contre tu proposes un salaire de 15 000 Euros pour commencer. Nous verrons à l’usage ce qu’elle vaut et mérite. C’est toujours plus motivant que de toucher tout de suite un salaire important.

-Très bien. J’envoie une lettre de refus pour les autres?

-Attends la réponse de Yasmina, et si c’est ok, oui. »

Alain n’eut pas besoin d’envoyer une réponse négative à Marguerite. Philippe reçut le lendemain matin un longue lettre d’elle, manuscrite, lui expliquant qu’elle était désolée, mais que son entreprise lui avait faite une autre offre et qu’elle l’avait acceptée parce que cela répondait à ce qu’elle voulait faire. Il était bien trop surchargé pour analyser ce qu’il ressentait, de toutes les façons cela ne changeait rien, puisque il avait décidé de ne pas l’embaucher. Et pour le reste, elle était fraîchement mariée, et ce n’était pas un accès d’hormone qui allait le faire bouger. Il passa à autre chose, mais pas pour très longtemps.

*****

Sans y prêter garde, Philippe avait mis la lettre de Marguerite dans sa sacoche de travail, et il la découvrit de retour chez lui, dans son studio aux konya escort Invalides. Il aimait ce lieu qu’il sentait chargé d’une énergie très particulière. Il n’avait pas besoin de plus de place, ayant tout sous la main, et suffisamment de volume pour respirer. La vue sur l’esplanade des Invalides le ravissait, et il était totalement insensible au bruit de la circulation. Il aimait particulièrement travailler allongé sur son lit, son portable le suivait partout, relié à Internet et à son bureau par une liaison sans fil à haut débit, qui lui permettait de travailler dans les mêmes conditions qu’à la Défense.

Il reprit les feuillets qui s’étaient échappés lorsqu’il avait retiré son portable de la sacoche. Cela ne le frappait que maintenant, mais elle avait écrit ces 3 pages à la main. Cela faisait très désuet et était très curieux. Etait ce une intention de sa part? Mais pour signifier quoi? Il ne connaissait rien en graphologie, mais il retrouvait dans les boucles de ses lettres toute sa douceur. Comme beaucoup de ses propos qui avaient semblé ambigus, la fin de sa lettre pouvait se lire de plusieurs façons :

« Je voudrais, Monsieur, vous remercier de votre accueil et de notre discussion que j’ai trouvée très enrichissante. Je n’ai pas de doute que la femme que vous choisirez sera très heureuse de vous servir. J’espère que j’aurais le bonheur de peut être recroiser votre route, et peut être cette fois ci quelque chose entre nous sera possible. »

Son instinct de chasseur se remettait en route après cette longue période d’abstinence. Pas de doute, il sentait en elle cette sensation qui le faisait craquer. C’était une femme pour lui, et elle semblait l’avoir senti, sinon comment expliquer son attitude, ses mots, pendant l’entretien, qui lui revenaient, le désir qu’il sentait en lui de la prendre, de la dominer, de la domestiquer, l’envie qu’elle communiquait d’être utilisée, dressée comme une esclave.

Ceci étant, il ne comprenait pas bien son refus à elle de venir travailler avec lui. De même elle était mariée! Peut être d’ailleurs était ce lié, elle était attirée et avait préféré refuser la proposition plutôt que d’être tentée. Philippe hésita longuement, et n’arriva pas à s’endormir avant d’avoir décidé de ce qu’il devait faire. Il relut à plusieurs reprises la lettre, et ce n’est que tardivement qu’il réalisa qu’elle lui avait laissé toutes ses coordonnées, professionnelles et personnelles, y compris son téléphone portable privé. Cela le décida. Il devait être 3 heures du matin, et sans doute elle dormait. Il voulait lui laisser un message, et préférait ne pas l’avoir en direct.

« Bonjour, vous êtes sur le portable de Marguerite. Je ne suis pas là, mais je serais heureuse d’entendre votre message après le bip. Je vous rappellerai sans faute.

-Bonsoir Marguerite. Je suis Philippe Dugas. Nous nous sommes rencontrés pour un entretien d’embauche il y a quelques jours, et j’ai reçu votre lettre de désistement. Ceci étant, je voudrais vous revoir. Je vous attends chez moi vendredi soir, à 21h précise. J’habite au 15 Place des Invalides, le code sur la porte est le 3256, mon appartement est au 7ème étage gauche en sortant de l’ascenseur. Ne sonnez pas, attendez sur le paillasson, les mains dans le dos, que je vous ouvre. Si vous n’êtes pas là, nous continuerons chacun notre vie, dans le cas contraire, nous verrons bien… »

Philippe souriait en raccrochant. Les dés étaient maintenant jetés, la suite n’était plus de son ressort. Il savait que sa voix était très agréable au téléphone, aussi si elle hésitait, peut être que cela ferait la différence.

Le reste de la semaine s’écoula rapidement comme toujours. Mais Philippe prit soin de s’impliquer un peu moins et de rentrer plus tôt chez lui le soir. Il repensait à Marguerite, à ce qu’il avait envie de lui faire. Et si ce n’était pas à elle, alors ce serait avec une autre. Il était heureux de sentir comme son désir était revenu, désir de contrôler une autre femme. Il se demandait si elle viendrait. Peut être avait il voulu voir tous ces signes?

*****

Evidemment de le voir partir dès 20h vendredi soir avait surpris quelques uns. Philippe se surprenait à être très fébrile, et il rentrait comme un fou sur sa moto. Il avait depuis longtemps compris que s’il voulait pouvoir cumuler plus de deux rendez vous dans la journée à Paris, il lui fallait un deux roues. Et il adorait cela, même la pluie ou le froid ne l’arrêtait pas. C’était très jouissif de sentir toute cette puissance et de la domestiquer.

Comme il le lui avait demandé, il n’avait eu aucune nouvelle de Marguerite. Il était totalement fou de lui avoir laissé un tel message, mais cela faisait bien longtemps qu’il n’avait pas été fou comme cela. L’incertitude de savoir si elle viendrait ou pas le rendait encore plus nerveux. Il ferma les volets et les rideaux, prépara de quoi grignoter et boire convenablement, de la musique zen sur la platine, des bougies pour éclairer. Le studio était comme toujours en ordre, c’était un maniaque du rangement et de la propreté, aucune crainte de ce côté-là. Quand tout fut préparé ainsi qu’il le souhaitait, il prit une douche brûlante qu’il laissa couler jusque quelques minutes avant l’heure fatidique. Il voulait résister et ne pas regarder au travers du judas, la découvrir au même moment où elle le découvrirait, espérant ce même coup de cœur, et cette même envie réciproque.

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