Buying the Virgin Box Set Two

by Simone Leigh

  Instantly, from behind, Michael seizes my hips, lifting me a little onto my knees. My Master continues to fuck me from below, but from above, there is the sudden spurt of damp chill that tells me Michael is applying lube to my rear entrance.

  My Master meets my eyes, then, his gaze passing over my shoulder to Michael behind me, he slows his thrusting a little. Michael probes at me with a finger, cold and wet, sending an involuntarily frisson through me. The finger runs a circuit through the ring of muscle, easing me open before a second finger joins it, stretching me wider. Then Michael’s warm body leans over mine as his shaft, wide and hard, pushes slowly into me, easing within.

  Leaning forward to accommodate him, my breasts swing low over my Master’s face and I manoeuvre to allow him to catch a nipple in his lips. He sucks gently, then swings his face to take the other.

  My breath rapid and shallow, I hold steady as Michael penetrates me, easing in, then out, in a little deeper, then out again. In and out once more, before finally sheathing himself inside me, to the full, his balls swinging against my upturned derriere, as he hilts himself.

  His arms curve around me, lifting me more upright, his hands cupping my breasts, and he starts to thrust. My Master matches him from below. Filled front and back by my Golden Lover and my Master, I rock back and forth to their movement.

  My climax, which I thought had passed, begins to rise once more, bubbling up from deep within, welling outwards from my liquid core until, as I cry out, it shatters through me again. My inner muscles in spasm, I try to retain some control - I want to watch my Master as he comes - and between gasps, I see him react as my clutching cunt clenches, and re-clenches around his cock. He heaves and gasps, head tilting forward, eyes squeezed closed as he comes, pulsing his climax into my throbbing pussy.

  Within seconds, Michael behind me also gasps, and presses hard against me. His hands grip my breasts more and more tightly, fingers digging in. Gyrating his hips against me, he pumps me full of his hot cream.

  Still panting, I realise I am dripping perspiration down onto my Master, and belatedly, try to wipe it from his face.

  He laughs. “A bit late for that Charlotte.” He has a point; his dark hair plastered to his skull by his own sweat.

  Michael, releasing his death-grip from my breasts, pulls his deflating cock from inside me and flops down onto to the bed, stretched out flat, staring at the ceiling. His chest still heaving, he flashes me a look and a smile, kisses his fingertips and then reaches up to press them to my lips.

  My Master, still deep inside me, is gazing up at me, his expression a strange mix of pleasure, fondness and concern. His hand caresses my face. “I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

  Michael’s head swings around as he stares at him, puzzlement writ large.

  “We asked too much of you Charlotte, asking you to go among strangers. I have always wanted to test you, but not to push you beyond what you could handle.” Michael stares into space, then nods and looks away. My Master continues. “I’m sorry.” he repeats. “It won’t happen again.”

  —————————————————

  I wake, sunlight slanting across the bed and lie, staring up at the ceiling.

  What was wrong with me last night?

  I must be nuts. As if my Master would allow anything, or anyone, to hurt me.

  I turn, and startle as I find him, propped up on an elbow, watching me from above.

  “Sleep well?” he asks.

  “I did yes, thank you Master…. Master?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m sorry I was so silly last night.”

  His eyes widen, his head tilting slightly. “Silly?”

  “About going to the club, I mean…… could we go another night? Tonight perhaps?”

  He hesitates. “You’re sure of that Charlotte? It’s what you want?”

  “Yes, Master. I am.”

  A slow, gradual smile illuminates his sombre face. He reaches to trace the outline of my lips with a finger. “Of course we can.”

  He looks over me…” Michael…”

  “I heard.” says Michael’s voice, still a little sleep be-fuddled. “You just ruined my plans Charlotte.”

  “Really? How?”

  “I’m going to have to save myself for this evening, or I’ll be no good to you. But I’ve woken up with a raging hard-on, and I was just about to do something about it…”

  ———————————————

  Unsure of what to expect from a ‘Club’, I am reassured by the surroundings: a crowd of people humming around a bar, chatting, drinking, some dancing. Various doors off lead to darkened rooms. A smell of chlorine suggests a pool or jacuzzi somewhere close by, as do couples wandering around wearing only a towel.

  “Want to look around, Charlotte? We can show you around if you like, or just have a wander if you prefer.”

  “I’ll look around myself, Master.”

  “Fine, Michael and I will be over here by the bar.”

  The two start chatting to a group of people who they obviously know of old. Or to be precise, my Master talks, whilst Michael stands and listens. He seldom says much.

  Drink in hand, I sip, as I amble aimlessly around the floor, peering down the dark corridors. Several strange guys, some quite attractive, are trying to catch my eye, but I look the other way and move on.

  Some rooms are empty. In others, groups of people, some couples, some many more, in various stages of dress and nudity, are preoccupied with each other. A girl in stockings and no more, locked in an iron-barred cage, invites passers-by to stroke, or feel, or fumble.

  A blond woman, her make-up rather over-made, and hair with that brassy look that suggests it comes from a bottle, intercepts me.

  “Hello. Charlotte, is it? You’ve come with James and Michael then?”

  There is something about the woman that I don’t care for, but I am the stranger here. Good manners seem politic. “Yes, that’s right.”

  She says to me “Well it’s nice to meet the mystery girl at last.”

  “Sorry? I don’t follow you?”

  “You. The mystery girl.” She points at my chest with her glass, and I hope that she hasn’t drunk so much that her cocktail ends up all over my lovely dress. “We’ve all been wondering what happened to those two.” She head-points my Master and Michael, who are standing at the bar, still chatting with another group.

  “I’m really sorry, but I’ve no idea what you mean.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Your two guys there, James and Michael. We used to see them here at least a couple of times a week, especially Blondie there. Then, they just vanished from the scene.” She leans in, whispering conspiratorially. “Rumour had it that there was some girl had her hooks into them - no offence meant - I mean who wouldn’t want to with those two? But none of us could figure out who it could be. And now, up they pop again, with you in tow…”

  I am beginning to feel uncomfortable with this one-sided conversation, and start to make my excuses, but she snags me by the arm, and I can find no polite way to disengage myself. Casting a glance sideways, I see that my Master is watching me.

  I roll my eyeballs towards her, in a mute appeal to be rescued from this obnoxious woman. He makes some excuse to the group, starting to make his way over to me through the crowd.

  “I mean….” she continues, “Go on, tell me, what’s your secret?”

  “My secret?”

  “Yeah. How did you nab them? Between them, they must have worked every sub who came through here, and every other club within twenty miles, and then, they just stopped. What did you do to them?”

  My brain finally catches up with my ears. “I’m sorry, but do I understand you correctly? Are you telling me that they are being faithful to me?”

  “You mean you don’t …...?”

  She is interrupted by my Master’s arrival. “Good evening Marcie. How lovely to see you.” He leans forward to give her a polite kiss, but I notice that it is a
n air-kiss to either side of her face, and he does not actually touch her at all.

  He offers me his arm. “Michael is missing you, Charlotte. Please excuse me, Marcie. Michael wants to introduce Charlotte to some of our friends.”

  As we walk away, “Who is she, Master? A friend of yours?”

  “Not exactly. I can’t stand her. She’s a gossip, and she doesn’t know when to stop talking.”

  I suck in my cheeks and remain silent.

  We spend a pleasant hour or so ‘circulating’, Michael and my Master introducing me to their circle of acquaintances, as I sip wine and try not to make a fool of myself. Several of the men, and some of the women, are clearly interested, angling for an invitation into whatever my Master and Michael have in mind. No invitations are forthcoming, and I begin to relax, to enjoy myself.

  What do they have planned?

  Eventually, my Master turns to me. “Ready to play, Charlotte?”

  I swallow hard.

  Tilting my chin up. “I think so Master, yes.”

  My Master and Michael lead me downstairs, through semi-lit corridors, to a thick, carven, oak-fronted door.

  Pushing it open, they pause at the doorway to let me see inside, pointedly allowing me the space to back away if I want to.

  Inside, arranged as the kind of classic dungeon you could see in any Hollywood movie, it has every appearance of a Medieval torture chamber, with a rack, chains and manacles hanging from the walls, and a heavy, timber carved cross mounted upright.

  A series of wide windows set into the walls of the room, heavily barred in wrought iron, provides a viewing platform for spectators from the outside corridors. The corridors outside are dark. The room itself is in a kind of half-light. Good for looking in, but not out.

  I hesitate…… My heart races, my breath coming in short starts….

  But I asked to come here. I asked to play these games.

  “You trust us don’t you, Charlotte?” My Master’s gaze is keen.

  “Of course I trust you. Both of you.”

  Holding my head high, I step into the chamber, Michael and my Master flanking me. Perhaps I might have found the array of equipment intimidating; a bench, ropes dangling from the ends, brass rings set into the walls, a rack containing whips, floggers and flails, but my Master’s promise is with me.

  And Michael loves me.

  As we step inside, Michael looks at me for a moment, drops back a step, closes the door and firmly draws the bolt. Any person standing at the barred windows can see anything that happens inside here, but no-one can enter until the door is unbolted from the inside.

  A small crowd is gathering around. Ready to see a show? There are a lot of them. They stare in, fifty pairs of eyes….

  …. But I know what my Master and Michael have done, keeping them out, to keep me feeling safe.

  My Master, pausing to choose, takes a flogger from the rack, red braided leather around the handle, and long black tresses in a suede-soft, velvety hide. With a crack, he flicks it at the leather studded padding of a bench, and I start at the noise. He strokes it under my chin, holding my eyes as he does so. He does not smile at me, but I sense the smile inside.

  I am panting hard now, pulse beating fast, and the blood singing in my ears.

  My Master holding me by one arm, Michael by the other, I am turned on the spot, displayed to the watching crowd.

  Michael, behind me, first pulls the lower folds of the dress to one side, displaying my legs to the watchers, bare to the hips, no panties. Eyes, male and female, follow his every movement. Then, slowly, he unbuttons the halter of the beautiful dress

  The halter unfastened, and the lovely thing falls away from me in a puddle of black sparkle, leaving me naked to the crowd.

  Standing behind, arms curved around me, he strokes my stomach, caresses and cups my breasts, and a hundred eyes follow his motions. The air is not cold, but a slight draught blows cool over me, raising my nipples, puckering them tight. My Master rolls one between forefinger and thumb, whilst the other hand quests south.

  With a sudden realisation, I know what he is doing. This is a reflection of our mirrored conversation of the previous day, but now with no mirror; just the audience, watching my Master take his pleasure with me.

  Trembling with nerves and a little chill, nonetheless, my pussy exudes a liquid heat and my thighs are dampening, hot juices trickling. Lips parting as my breathing increases further, my chest beginning to heave, I flush in anticipation of what…?

  My eyes roll sidelong to the array of whips and lashes, to the flogger my Master selected.

  “Michael. If you would.”

  Michael produces a tie from his pocket, a black silky scarf which he binds around my left wrist, then also, my right wrist, with a second silken cloth. He leads me by my bound wrists to the padded horse.

  “Bend forward Charlotte.” he whispers.

  Tying each wrist to either end of the bench, he leaves my arms splayed and bound. Arranging me, he presses my face, cheek-side-down against the padding so I can see only obliquely, to one side. My hips and legs, he pulls outwardly. My ass, he lifts, to be displayed and accessible, parting my cheeks and folds, to reveal my wet, pink entrance. His final move is to push my ankles apart,

  My Master trails the tresses of the flogger over the contour of my spine to my face. Lingering and soft, the sensation is exotic, erotic, and I shiver.

  He murmurs, “Charlotte, if this gets close to your limits, you say ‘Yellow’. If it becomes too much, you say ‘Red’. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “You’re sure? You stop this at any time. You simply say ‘Yellow’ or ‘Red’.”

  “Yes, Master. I understand.”

  He strokes my hair, which trails in a long, foxy fall from the padded bench, then, moving around me, draws the tails along from my shoulders, to the curve of my waist and hip.

  A pause, a sharp flick, and the soft lashes kiss my thighs.

  I quiver, my lips parting as my breathing increases to panting. Another lash licks across my buttocks. This is not painful; only…. stimulating. My folds swelling, pussy lips opening, I well up from within, a sense of well-being and of other-worldliness….

  The tresses trail my skin, over my shoulders and neckline, before another, sharper strike of the lash across my thighs. It stings, but my pussy warms, my clit shuddering.

  Breathing ever more heavily, I move my legs to a more comfortable position, but my Master, hooking his shoe around my ankles, parts my feet further. The leather tresses lash along my lower back, between my buttocks, sparking against the soft inner skin.

  Face down, looking sideways on, I cannot see my Master, but Michael is watching me, his eyes alternately fixed on my face, and watching my reactions as the tails comes down.

  The lash swipes across my buttocks again, harder now, the stroke biting in, and, as my pussy freely flows, I bite my lower lip. The strange ethereal feeling blooms, an inner glow that laves my body and brain and shivering cunt. The snap of the lashes and the tingling sting on my skin is supremely erotic.

  And somehow…. calming….

  My hips quiver and jerk under the flogger, my Master’s strokes becoming harder each time. Should I speak? At some level, I feel that this should hurt, and it does, but I embrace the pain as it transmutes to pleasure and a growing inner desire. With each stroke, I gasp, jolting as the whip burns in, but I have no urge to stop this.

  The tails snap inside my thighs, flaring against my clit and my swollen folds, scalding in. My body heaves and judders, but dreamlike, I feel no desire to cease the pain. Instead the sense of warmth, of serenity, washes over me.

  Michael, still watching me, tilts his head of a sudden, eyes widening, looking at me closely. He steps forward, taking me by the chin. “Charlotte? Charlotte. Say something to me.”

  I don’t wish to speak, but now, the lashing has ceased, and my Master, coming around to look at my face, remains silent, stroking my mouth with a fin
ger, then kissing me on the lips.

  Between them, they untie me from the horse and, lifting me, limp and compliant, onto the large bed, lie me gently on my back.

  “Master?”

  “Yes, Charlotte?”

  “I want you inside me.”

  He smiles, unbuttons his shirt and steps out of his jeans. Michael follows suit.

  My Master whispers “Open your legs, Charlotte. Let me in.” And dreamily, I raise and part my knees.

  As he lies between my thighs, my Master’s cock pushes at my engorged entrance, easing inside, and I cry out at the incredible sensation as he enters me. As he penetrates, my body welcomes him, pulsing and trembling, an electric response that seethes through me in a bubbling, brimming surge towards orgasm.