Chapter Three

The imperious woman pulled back the proffered boot and took up her widened stance, arms akimbo, looking down at the languid blonde who lay at her feet, who seemed now to have sunk into a kind of sensual lassitude. She studied the blond sex before her opened up before her with detachment; but she couldn’t resist bringing the boot back into play to prod the vulnerable cunt.

“What a perfect little slut you are. Look at her, panties down to her knees, showing us her cunt like the little whore she is. I bet you’d just love to have a good stiff cock right now, wouldn’t you?” she sneered. And then, turning away to look over her shoulder at Sky:

“I’ll bet our little Barbie wants to fuck now, eh? I think... if she asks nicely, you should oblige her,” she continued, nudging the slack thighs further apart with her booted foot, smiling knowingly at the sheen of slick juices that glistened on Crissy’s inner thighs, and moistened the edge of her public curls.

“Go on, Barbie Doll, ask Mr. Eliott nicely, and maybe he’ll fuck you.” She prodded the girl’s gaping sex, her voice dripping with contempt: “Tell him what you want,” she spat, her voice hardening. “Tell him you want his cock!”

Sky, totally absorbed by the unfolding scene, could no longer contain himself; he needed no further invitation to tear open his pants and hastily run them down his legs, his eyes all the while on the disheveled blonde.

Crissy looked up at the imposing dominatrix, then glanced over at the eager smiling man who was skimming down his briefs, watching him through hooded eyes, as his gorgeous cock sprang up, quivering with readiness, and now bobbing slightly as he stepped towards her. She licked her parted lips.

The incredible heat that suffused through her had reached her cheeks; her face was flushed and warm; there was this intense craving in her entire body, an ache of longing from deep in her loins, a physical lust that stirred her like she had never been moved before. Her bottom was still throbbing with a dull ache; but the ache warmed her with sexual heat. She had the strongest desire to squeeze her legs and rub her thighs together, but she remembered Katerina’s injunction about keeping her legs well-parted. And now she looked up to see those hard black eyes regarding her with contempt, sneering at her for her weakness, waiting for her to submit, to admit that she needed sex so very badly. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, and nodded.

“WELL, SAY IT!” The command rang out.

“Please... yes. Take me Sky” Crissy whispered in a heated rush.

“Take me, Sky? Take me, Sky?!!” her tormentor crowed in a mocking tone. “What do you think is some kind of fuckin’ soap opera? Tell him what you want. Say it... say, ‘I’m a little whore, and I want your cock!’” Katerina screeched at her, using the heel of the boot this time, shoving it up the girl’s gaping pussy.

“Oooooh, Ok, Ok, ouch, I’m a whore and I want…your cock,” the breathless words tumbled out as the agitated girl rolled her head from side to side in a delirium of passion.

Kat squatted down beside her, twisted her fingers in that silken hair, and yanked Crissy’s head up off the carpeted floor to hold her head suspended by a fistful of hair.

“Better than that, you little whore. Ask him politely. Say ‘Please Fuck me, Sir.’ SAY IT!” she shouted in Crissy’s face, twisting the handful of hair she held in her clenched fist till the poor girl strained up, tears welling up in her widened eyes. “Ouch, eeeeeee…yes, yes, Please Sky…Sir, Fuck me! Fuck me…Fuck meeeee…!” She shrieked in agony.

Her tormentor’s face lit up with a smile of supreme triumph, and she winked knowingly at her accomplice who, wearing nothing now but his flapping white shirt, strode up to take Katerina’s place between Crissy’s outstretched legs.

Eagerly, he fell to his knees, yanked off the disheveled panties and tossed them aside. He shoved her loose legs even further apart, and then dropped onto her, his hips squirming as she wriggled under his weight.

The coupled pair moved together in a sensual dance; Sky luxuriating in the sheer pleasure of that first body-to-body contact, as his prick rode up her smooth soft belly.

Crissy’s arms rose in a welcoming embrace, while Sky slipped his feverish hands up under her behind to grip her throbbing bottom. She felt his cupping hands fitted to the rounded contours of her rear-cheeks; his fingers digging into the softly malleable mounds. A barely suppressed groan escaped her gasping lips. She clung to the man, holding on desperately, as he lifted her loins from the carpet, and drove straight into her, burying his prick in the enfolding slickness of her hot wet cunt, sliding up in one powerful lunge and getting a low deep-throated groan from the passion-driven young girl.

He luxuriated in the feel of her, her warmth and wetness, the satiny slickness of her delicious pussy, tight and smooth against his surging prick as he drew back, He plunged into her, again and again, flexing his hips, sending her into paroxysms of pure pleasure that had her yelping sharp whimpers of delight. She hung on, clutching him tighter, wrapping her slim nyloned legs around his rocking hips, seeking to draw in even more of him, deeper and deeper, hungry for his body, as she drummed his surging butt with her heels.

At one fantastic stab of pleasure her big blue eyes flew open and, looking over his shoulder, she saw the black-clad woman watching them. Katerina had once more ensconced herself in the big chair, her legs negligently sprawled apart. One hand, jammed down the front of her panties, was moving in a slow sensual massage. The woman was pleasuring herself as, through half-lidded eyes, she watched the couple fucking on the floor before her.

Crissy moaned and quivered as excited tingles raced through her healthy young body. Now they were moving together, fucking in a strong rocking rhythm that grew as it pounded along till they were thrashing about in erotic frenzy and Crissy felt the sheer inevitability of an onrushing orgasm. The single piercing thrill shattered her in an intensity of pure rapture. She was soaring, and he held his prick still, deep within her, keeping her at the ecstatic peak for an incredibly long moment till the thrill finally ended in a low moan and a long sigh of profound satisfaction.

Sky, straining upward, savagely plunged into her as she raised her pelvis to meet his churning hips. Tightening his buttocks, he thrust even deeper, burying himself in her spasming vagina, till he could hold out no more and a pounding surging climax sent his prick erupting as he threw back his head and came, crying out in a shout of joy.

***

Crissy’s eyes opened to take in the surroundings of a room that was tastefully decorated, with expensive period pieces and elegant furniture, upholstered in soft matching pastels. Across from the commodious bed on which she lay, large twin windows dominated the far wall, the drapes thrown back to reveal a grassy knoll below. The walls, sheathed in a muted yellow wallpaper, held a series of framed erotic sketches of nudes. Several large, gild-edged mirrors dominated each side of the room. The morning light suffused through the room, lending it a bright cheerful feel and falling on the silky blond hair and the pale face with its childlike solemnity. The sleeping girl was curled up under the thin sheet, lying on her side, her knees drawn up a little. The summer breeze coming through the open, curtained windows passed over her face, causing the girl to stir. The breeze felt wonderful, soft and caressing. Only half awake, she scissored her legs, relishing the delectable feel of expensive satin sheets against her naked body.

Suddenly, she bolted upright and sat looking around at the luxurious bedroom. Her first thought was of her clothes! To one side stood a closet with an open door that revealed it was quite empty. No clothes were in sight except for a short satin bed-jacket laid out on a nearby chair which seemed obviously meant for her use. It was perfectly still in the big house.

Wrapping her arms around her folded legs, she clasped her knees to her chest, sitting quietly, trying to remember. Fragments of the crazy, reckless night she had spent wallowing in sex, came back to her now in a flood of shocking images. She knew she had been drinking, way too much. And the thought came to her: how she must have looked, laid across Sky’s lap, being spanked like a schoolgirl; sprawled on the floor, her dress twisted around her waist, and panties down, spanning her knees, while she groveled at the booted feet of that impressively tall bitch with the implacable will of iron. A shiver went up her spine; the deliciously wicked memory cutting through her like an erotic knife -- of being fucked, again and again by the insatiable blond satyr, who’s boyish grin never faltered as he took her in every conceivable way. God, it was heavenly. And all the while the other woman looked on, smoking cigarette after cigarette, as she watched from her chair; like some X-rated movie in which she, Crissy Whitney was the star.

The girl raked clawed fingers through her hair, and noticed the odd metallic taste in her mouth. Suddenly, it came to her: they must have slipped something in her drink! At some point she probably passed out. In any event, she didn’t know how she got up the stairs. Someone had obviously undressed her and put her to bed.

She closed her eyes and thought of yet another disturbing element: the aloof and remote, Katerina: Katerina, the bitch who had remained fully clothed while the two of them were bouncing around stark naked. Katerina striding back and forth across the room, pacing like a caged panther in increasing agitation as she watched Sky kneel between the seated girl’s leg to pay long and loving tribute to Crissy’s pleasure-soaked cunt, using his mouth and lips and tongue in ways that had the young girl squealing with delight.

At one point Katerina must have slipped off her slacks, for Crissy had the image of the lean, small-breasted woman, wearing nothing but a torso-clinging bodyshirt with a high turtleneck collar. The single garment’s high-arching legbands left bare her starkly white thighs and the hard cheeks of her lean buttocks, all brazenly exposed as she strode about the room in those tall black boots, restlessly pacing back and forth between making drinks, and urging the two lovers on with raunchy encouragement; an impresario -- the demanding director of some live sex show.

And finally, when the exhausted couple lay sprawled out, completely depleted, it was Katerina who took the initiative, restoring them with Brandy, then suggesting ways for Crissy to go about to reviving her man’s flagging spirits, to re-ignite the spent male’s simmering fires. Through it all, Katerina herself never once touched Sky herself; never touched either of them. (At the back of her mind was the possibility that Katerina might be interested in her; a thought that made the young girl shudder). But rather, it seemed the older woman was perfectly content to play the voyeur’s role. It was obvious that she got turned on by watching. Still, Crissy wondered. It was curious that this cool detached observer seemed to know Sky Elliot’s handsome body in such detail.

So she had been shown what to do; made to do what she was told. And she obeyed, like some sort of sex slave, on her knees. When placed in that position she was soon hot again, and incredibly eager to comply, longing to submit. It surprised her. She never felt like this before. She would have done anything; well, almost anything, she corrected herself.

One by one, her inhibition had fallen away. Gradually, she had gotten used to the presence of the other woman, not really minding it, actually rather liking the experience of being watched as she made love. She had to admit it gave her a kick to know the other woman was there; to feel her eyes on her, while she writhed in the throes of passion. She recognized the gleam of lust in those coal black eyes, saw those high cheekbones tinged with a points of a pink tint as Kat held herself erect gripping the arms of her throne with white-knuckled intensity, and she felt a deep, delicious twinge that left her feeling mushy inside.

And when Katerina ordered her to assume this position or that, told her what to do, in intimate detail to get her man once more upstanding, Crissy was only too happy to oblige, greedily devouring his slowly rejuvenating cock, adoring his beautiful body with lips and tongue and mouth, licking his thickening prick, nuzzling into his hairy scrotum, kissing his ass; reveling in sensual delight as his unfolding manhood responded to the obsequious devotion played out right before the other woman’s eyes.

For Crissy it had all been so fantastic! She slipped a hand between her legs and cupped her pussy. Just thinking of it, got her wet! It was sex like she had never experienced it before. Last night, for the first time, she learned what it felt like to experience multiple orgasms that shook her repeatedly and rocketed her to the most exquisite heights. Even now the thought caused her toes to curl in pleasure; she hugged herself tightly, smiling at the happy memory.

Still it all seemed a little unreal, especially now, in the clear morning light. Now as she took in the contents of the room she noticed that the nightstand at her bedside contained a shelf with several large volumes that looked like photo albums. Curious, she selected one, an oversized volume with padded covers. She laid it on the bed before her and spread it open. The album contained a series of 8 1/2 x 11 photographs, erotic photos, each one more intriguing than the last. The black and white photos were of interestingly posed women, and in some cases men, in various stages of undress; some naked; most masked or hooded and clad in gleaming leather outfits. They seemed to be engaged in bizarre sex games, relishing the perverse pleasures of binding ropes and chains, and whips. Fascinated, she turned each page slowly, taking the time to carefully study each picture.

She was especially intrigued with one of a hooded man, nude but for a pair of boots and a short leather vest. He stood with legs well spread, one hand on his hip, the other cradling the head of a woman who knelt at his feet, her back to the camera. His fingers were entwined, twisted in hank of hair at the back of her bowed head, and as he held her like that, she was busy sucking his cock. The male figure looked familiar, and the pale wisps of pubic hair confirmed her suspicions that the man was blond. She knew. It was the hard, well-formed body of her host -- Sky Elliot! She felt herself warming.

Suddenly, she had the urge to urinate. She hopped out of bed and, not bothering with the robe, padded in to use the adjacent bathroom. Sitting on the john in the well-appointed, brightly-lit facility, she was startled to find herself staring at her naked image wherever she looked. Mirrored walls reflected infinite copies of a naked blond girl squatting to take a pee.

She stood at the mirror over the sink, turned on the taps, and then, on second thought, shut them off. She turned to look over her shoulder at the inviting shower stall, and the neat stack of thick white towels that lay on a nearby shelf. A shower might be nice.

It was an open, three-sided enclosure, facing directly into the spacious mirrored bathroom, the tiled floor sloping moderately to provide runoff towards a central drain. Stepping into the enclosure, she admired the ingenious fittings; rows of small nozzles set on either side and at the back that sprayed the bather from three directions. There was also a hand-held shower massage, useful for the hair.

After a little experimentation, she set the controls for a stinging hot spray, and let the water pound her hard young body as she rotated slowly under the spray. Then she stepped forward, out of the direct line of the spray to soap up, slowly, languidly lathering herself with a huge cake of soap and a coarse washcloth.

She spent a long time on her breasts, coating those firm pointy mounds with a rich sheen of slick lather, then moving them languidly, caressing herself with both hands while warm waves of pleasure flooded through her. Her nipples were hardening, as she closed her eyes to conjure up those disturbing photos. Crissy knew from past experience that she could bring herself off this way, just by playing with her tits, but today she felt the need for a deeper more profound orgasm.

Widening her stance, she brought the washcloth down between her legs to scour her cunt, enjoying the rough feel of the coarse wadded cloth rubbing between her legs. Next, she soaped her pubic mound, playing with the little hairs she twisted between her fingers, coating them with a thick lather and running the soap bar down between her thighs, passing it back and forth along the cleft of her pussy lips. The sudden stab of pleasure that shot through her caused her to gasp and the soap fell from her hand, but she kept the soapy hand in place, buried between her spasming thighs. Crooking her two middle fingers, she hooked them up into her yawning cunt.

And so in the privacy of the guest’s bathroom in that strange house Christina Whitney gave herself up to those most exquisite of solo pleasures. Swaying slightly, her head thrown back, a dreamy expression on her face, she sank to her knees and began to palm her soapy pubis, sliding fingers up and into her slippery pussy in a slow steady rhythm, pleasuring herself in just the way she liked.

***

Crissy was seated on a low bench in front of an elegant Provincial vanity. She had slipped into the bed-jacket, a sort of kimono, of shiny peach-colored satin with a loose front that, when cinched at the waist, came down to barely cover her hips.

Humming to herself, she opened her overnight case, glad she had had the foresight to bring it with her. She was sorting through the jumble of cosmetics when there was a soft, respectful knock at the door. Gathering the front of the robe and holding it together, she turned and called for the visitor to enter, half expecting her host to come through the door. Instead it was a tall, dark, mustachioed man who entered, carrying a breakfast tray. He introduced himself as “Alejandro”; Crissy was immediately taken with his deep Latin eyes, and the square well-built shoulders, that nicely filled the short white jacket he wore, a uniform jacket that gave the man a certain military bearing.

For a brief moment, his gentle eyes swept over her with appreciative interest and, suddenly aware that only the thin silky jacket covered her nakedness, she instinctively clutched the front lapels tighter together. But the courteous servant immediately lowered his eyes, purposely avoiding hers. In soft rolling tones, Alejandro brought greetings from his employer. He had been instructed to see to her needs, he added deferentially. Mr. Elliot had requested that she join him for morning coffee on the lower deck when she was ready. Crissy took that in, and asked what seemed to her an obvious question about her clothes.

Her clothes had been put away, and would of course be brought to her if she wished to dress immediately, however Mr. Elliot hoped she might wish to have a leisurely breakfast, and hoped she would be more comfortable wearing the robe he had laid out for her. Crissy was secretly pleased. She smiled up at the dark Latino, vaguely wanting him to stay, hoping to find out more about his employer, but even now Alejandro was edging towards the door. He wished her good morning, and with that he backed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.