Eloisa adjusted the rhythm of her stroke, matching it to the little undulations of Corinda's body. 'Come for me,' she whispered.
'Yes, yes.' Corinda arched her back, pushing her pelvis up out of the water, as the last movement of the soap catapulted her into an orgasm.
Eloisa felt her own body pulse as she watched the girl stretched out on a rack of pleasure, the water dripping from her breasts.
Slowly the moment passed. Corinda lowered herself back into the water. 'Oh, that was so good,' she said. 'I feel great.' It was true. The aftermath of a delicious orgasm seemed to have washed away her worries. She felt optimistic. Tim would be safe. They would find a way of contacting Arabella. Everything was going to be all right. She felt no embarrassment. To her what had happened had been the most natural thing in the world.
She stood up. The water cascaded off her body. Arabella had always been very strict about one thing. Favours had to be returned.
Eloisa had sunk to her knees at the side of the bath. Corinda climbed out, wrapped a towel around her body then took Eloisa's hand and drew her to her feet. She kissed her. Eloisa had definitely not anticipated this. She had come to do Constantine's bidding, to prepare the girl for him. She hadn't imagined this would happen. Tim had said nothing about the girl's lesbian experience and Eloisa suspected that was because he didn't know about it.
Corinda's hand pulled the American's dress up at the back and delved down between her buttocks. Eloisa was not wearing panties and the sleek black nylons were hold-ups. There was nothing to stop Corinda's fingers slipping between her labia then forcing their way into her vagina. 'Like this?' she asked.
'No, like this,' the American replied. There were so many things she would have loved to do with the girl, like take her to her room, string her up to the wall and use a whip on her. She would have loved to strap on a dildo and take her from behind. But Constantine would be annoyed if she scared her. He wanted her innocence intact. Instead Eloisa twisted out of the girl's arms, gripped the edge of the bath and bent over until her back was straight and at right angles to her legs. She wormed her feet, still in the high-heeled shoes, wide apart. 'Did you lick it for your Arabella?' she asked.
By way of reply Corinda dropped to her knees. She wrapped her arms around Eloisa's strong thighs and manoeuvred her head back, until her eyes were staring up at the woman's shaven pubis, and her mouth was immediately below her sex. She pushed her tongue between the labia and licked all the way from the bud of her anus to her clit. Then she worked back again, pushing against her sphincter. It gave way and Corinda plunged her tongue inside, trying to penetrate as deeply as she could. Smoothing over the welts of the hold-up stockings, which clung tightly to her thighs, she insinuated the fingertips of her right hand into the woman's vagina, penetrating her there too.
'God, you're good,' Eloisa sighed as she felt her sex producing a wave of juice.
Corinda moved her fingers out of the way, allowing her mouth to replace them, circling her tongue around the entrance to her vagina, stretching the elastic flesh this way and that before plunging inside. She licked at the wetness, enjoying the taste, pushing her face against the American's sex to get her tongue deeper. She darted it in and out, as Arabella had taught her to do. She found Eloisa's clitoris and licked it, two fingers in her vagina and two in her anus.
Eloisa's body tightened. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the bath. Normally her sexuality was more complicated, more perverse, and needed the stimulus of total domination, but there was something about this girl that excited her as much as the whips and bondage that were the usual familiars to her passion. It was, she supposed, the girl's essential innocence and her readiness to please. These were traits that seemed at odds with her sexual proficiency.
She found herself sobbing as her head reared up and a jolt of pleasure coursed through her. 'You're so good,' she managed to say through clenched teeth. And it was true. The blonde's fingers seemed to have wormed their way deeper than she'd thought fingers could ever go. They burrowed into her as copious juices ran down them, and her sex spasmed rhythmically. But the pleasure from her clitoris was just as acute. The girl's tongue was barely moving but it had found the perfect spot, a raw nerve that was creating wave after wave of pure sexual ecstasy. The two-pronged assault on her senses began to merge. She could no longer tell which was producing the greater pleasure. Was it the delicate movement of Corinda's tongue, or the fingers pumping into her vagina and anus, that finally broke the dam of feelings and plunged her into an orgasm? She did not know or care. Her body went rigid, and she heard herself let out a strange sound, like a cross between a scream and a moan. It echoed around the bathroom, only seeming to die away as the throes of orgasm died away too.
Corinda rocked back on her haunches as Eloisa straightened up.
'You're something,' she said.
'Was it good?' Corinda asked.
Eloisa smiled. 'You know it was. Come on. We've got to get you ready. Can't keep Constantine Evangelos Stephanikis waiting. She pulled the tight white Lycra down over her thighs, and back up around her bosom.
There was a black silk bra, matching panties and a suspender belt, all trimmed with lace. The tight cocktail dress was a scarlet red, and there were shiny red high heels in almost exactly the same colour. Eloisa had plenty of clothes to choose from. There were wardrobes of clothes all salvaged from shipwrecked yachts. As the yachts had usually been the property of very rich men the clothes were expensive too, with all the top couturiers represented among Constantine's looted treasures.
Eloisa's hand was still trembling slightly as she helped Corinda wash and dry her long blonde hair. That done, she sat her on a small stool and applied a little make-up. The girl didn't need much; a touch of eyeliner and shadow to emphasis her eyes, a little blusher to accentuate her cheekbones, and red lipstick to coat her pouting lips.
'This is beautiful,' Corinda said, picking up the dress as they walked back into the bedroom. 'And these.' She picked up the lingerie. They reminded her of the underwear she had worn on the yacht. She rubbed the panties against her face. 'It's so soft.'
'Silk,' Eloisa said.
'What's this?' Corinda held up the suspender belt.
'Haven't you seen one before?'
'No.'
'It's for holding up stockings.'
'Stockings?'
'Like these.' Eloisa indicated her own legs.
'But they stay up on their own.'
'Some do. Some don't. These don't.' She picked up the cellophane packet of black stockings that also lay on the bed.
'I've only ever seen tights. Sometimes when it was cold on the island I'd wear tights.'
'You've never worn stockings?'
'Never.'
Eloisa took the suspender belt and wrapped it around Corinda's waist, clipping it in place at the small of her back. Its suspenders, like long fingers, reached down the front and side of her thighs. Eloisa undid the packet of stockings and shook them out. They were the sheerest black.
'Sit on the bed,' she said.
Corinda obeyed. The American worked one of the stockings into a neat pocket and handed it to Corinda. Raising her foot the blonde dug her toes into the nylon then rolled it up her leg, watching with fascination as the shiny tight material seemed to transform her flesh, leaving it sheer and wet-looking, like a coat of gloss paint. She smoothed the top onto her thigh. The contrast between it and the flesh above it was marked. Above the nylon her tanned skin seemed impossibly soft.
'Sexy, isn't it?' Eloisa said, spotting Corinda's reaction. 'That's why men love women to wear stockings.'
'The thing is, I haven't had much experience with men,' Corinda said, as she picked up the second stocking and gathered the nylon into a pocket around the toe, as she'd seen Eloisa do with the first.
'Take it from me,' Eloisa assured her.
As she rolled the stocking up her leg she thought it odd that Eloisa had not asked her a single question about her background or her
life; perhaps Constantine had told her not to, fearing perhaps such questions might upset her.
With both welts smoothed tightly around her thighs she felt a twinge of excitement as she looked down at them.
'Like this,' Eloisa said, showing her how the rubber nub of the suspender slid under the nylon and was then secured into the metal hoop on top of it.
Corinda tried the second one for herself. By the time she had clipped the fourth into place she could accomplish the manoeuvre without difficulty.
She jumped to her feet. The suspender belt felt strange. She had never worn anything like it. The way it pulled at the stockings, keeping them taut against her flesh, made her feel curiously aroused. She was also excited by the way her sex felt open and exposed, as though the suspender belt had been designed to frame and display it.
'Makes me feel sexy,' she said.
'That's good, isn't it? Clothes can do that. There's all sorts of stuff you can wear that'll get you turned on. I like really tight things; basques and bustiers, especially in leather. Constantine's going to get a wardrobe moved in here while you're having dinner. I'll have it stocked up with a load of lingerie, as well as dresses. I think I guessed your size right.'
'Does Constantine like stockings?' Corinda stroked the nylon.
'Sure he does. Crazy about them.'
'Good. I want to please him. He's been so kind.' The sexual excitement Corinda felt increased markedly when she thought of him. The experience in the bathroom had only been, she hoped, a prelude to the main event. Though she could not say that she felt the same about him as she had felt about Tim, in terms of finding him handsome and attractive, he was nevertheless only the second man she had met and been close to. She hoped over dinner she would be able to persuade him to let her see his body, as she had persuaded Tim. She would quite understand if he didn't want to have sex with her, but it would be nice if he would at least agree to let her see him and perhaps touch him. Of course, if she could persuade him to go further that would be even better. After having been so near on the yacht to feeling a real live penis sinking into her, it was an experience she now craved. It would be wonderful if Constantine was in the mood to allow her to at least satisfy her curiosity.
Of course, she reminded herself, she was his guest and she had a lot to thank him for. If he did not want to have sex with her she must not show her disappointment; that would be rude after everything he'd done. But she didn't think it would hurt to ask at least.
Clipping the black bra into place she looked at Eloisa as she picked up the panties. 'Can I ask you a personal question?'
'Sure.'
'Do I have to wear these? I feel so much better without them.'
Eloisa smiled. 'You do whatever you want, sister.'
Corinda dropped the panties on the bed. She picked up the red dress and stepped into it. As Eloisa zipped her up the dress wrapped around her, encasing her tightly. The low neckline revealed the deep cleavage created by the bra, while the rest of the dress clung to the contours of her hourglass figure. It followed her narrow waist, the dramatic flare of her hips, and sheathed the pert curves of her buttocks.
'Well?' She danced into the bathroom and inspected herself in the long mirror fixed to the inside of the door.
'You look great,' Eloisa said. 'It's time to go. Don't want to keep him waiting.'
Corinda walked to the bed, placed the shoes on the floor and slipped her feet into them. 'I've only worn heels once before. I'm a bit wonky on them.'
Again she found it a little odd that Eloisa didn't ask her why but said, instead, 'Don't worry, I'll walk real slow. Let's go.'
Somehow the metal shutter, which had closed the moment Eloisa entered the room, began to roll up. It was the first time Corinda had stepped outside the room. She found herself in a corridor with plain white walls and a black tiled floor. There were similar metal-shuttered doorways on either side. The corridor opened on to a large square atrium with a white marble floor. A long wooden staircase ran along one wall, its steps made from trunks of trees sawn into short lengths and only planed flat on the upper surface. The logs were jointed into a massive tree trunk which ran diagonally up to a gallery.
At first Corinda thought the ceiling of the atrium was made from glass and that above it she could see the sky, dotted with stars and a crescent moon. It was only when she looked closely that she realised it was a cleverly created illusion, the moon and stars painted on a background above a glass screen.
Eloisa led the way across the atrium into a large reception room. At the far end was a huge fireplace, its tapering chimney standing out from the wall. A roaring fire blazed in the grate. Two vast white brocade sofas were positioned in front of it, with a polished oak coffee table between them. The table was piled with books, all on the works of twentieth-century artists. There were more books on thick plate-glass shelves cantilevered out from one wall, and the whole room was dotted with beautifully made wooden stands on the tops of which were displayed various antiquities; a Roman head, an Egyptian jug, an Etruscan bowl. Each was individually lit by a spotlight set into the ceiling directly above.
Constantine Evangelos Stephanikis stood by the fire. He was wearing a white dinner jacket, black trousers, a black bow tie, and a silk cummerbund in red and blue.
'My dear, you look charming, totally charming,' he said as Corinda walked, a little unsteadily, across the room.
'Thank you,' she said.
He took her hand and kissed it, before holding her arm up to inspect her more closely.
'Champagne? A glass before dinner? Eloisa...' There was a bottle in a silver ice bucket on the coffee table. Eloisa poured some into two crystal flutes, and handed them to him and Corinda.
'You may leave us now,' he said.
'Enjoy,' Eloisa responded enigmatically, looking directly at him, then turned and left.
'So here is to you, my dear. Saved from the sea.' He raised his glass and clinked it against Corinda's.
'And to you, for saving me.' She sipped her drink.
Constantine laughed. 'No, I cannot take credit for that. I merely found you. A higher fate, I think, was responsible for throwing you up on my island. Shall we call it destiny? Are you hungry?'
'I'm starving,' she replied.
'My chef is Greek, like myself, but he will prepare you anything you wish if you do not care for Greek food.'
'No, I love it.'
'Good, good, then let us delay no longer. Bring the champagne with you.'
Constantine took her arm. There was an archway to one side of the fireplace and he led her through it into a dining room with an elaborately carved oak table that could have seated at least thirty people. One end had been set for two people, with a sparkling array of crystal glasses, silver candlesticks, gold-rimmed white china and solid silver cutlery laid on crisp white linen.
There was a French window along one wall, giving the impression the room looked out on to a lush tropical garden. In fact it was another illusion; a three-dimensional trompe l'oeil. The painting was arranged on a three-sided screen outside the glass.
Constantine followed Corinda's eyes. 'Yes, it's a fake. I like to pretend. It is very clever. A computer controls the background light. As dawn breaks outside so the whole picture changes to a bright blue sky.'
'Really?'
'At least I have an illusion of reality. Please,' he said, pulling out one of the dining chairs, just as the waiter had done on the yacht.
Corinda sat, and he sat opposite her. There was a small gold bell on the table, which he rang. He lifted his champagne glass and touched it against Corinda's again. 'To a wonderful evening.'
'You're so kind.'
Her reaction to the Greek was complicated. She didn't find him in the least attractive, but that had not, apparently, stopped her body tingling with an anticipation that was unmistakably sexual. Perhaps this was what she had read about; the chemical reaction women feel when with a man.
A door opened and one of the brunettes who had ac
companied Constantine earlier entered. She was dressed in a tight leotard made from transparent plastic. Her full breasts, nipples and neatly trimmed pubic hair were exposed. She wore high-heeled boots of white leather.
'Iluska, we're ready to eat. My guest is happy to join me with the Greek food.'
Iluska nodded and went back through the door. Having little experience of what was considered normal, and what was not, Corinda did not think the brunette's outfit at all strange. She did think she was extremely beautiful though, and compared herself unfavourably with Iluska's dark good looks. If Constantine was surrounded by women like Iluska, she thought, it was unlikely he would need sex with her.
'Have you remembered anything yet, my dear?' he asked. He had spent all day on the phone to his contacts telling them of his unusual piece of merchandise. There was no doubt Corinda would fetch a good price on the market he dealt with. A very good price.
'I'm afraid I fell asleep again,' she explained.
'Never mind. It will come in time. Better not to force these things.'
The door opened and Iluska came out followed by the other brunette, who was dressed in an identical costume. The two carried trays of food and set down little pottery bowls on the table, in the traditional Greek meze. There was hummus, tabouleh, taramasalata, tzatziki, and dolmades, all dressed with olive oil and mint. There were clams, huge prawns, three different types of oysters and a basket of breads; pitta bread and a flat focaccia, baked with black olives.
Corinda ate voraciously, tearing off chunks of bread to dip into the bowls, while one of the two lewdly dressed women poured a heady red wine into her glass. Constantine ate with relish too, consuming oysters first, before turning to the prawns. He shelled them expertly, then sucked their heads before consuming their tails.
The initial hunger was eventually, at least partly satiated. By the time the girls cleared away the first course and brought plates of charcoal grilled lamb, quails and chicken, Corinda felt able to pause long enough to ask some of the questions she had been storing up.
The Chaste Legacy Page 7