by Simone Leigh
We stand, I think framed in the doorway, the three of us, Michael to one side of me, my Master to the other, me blindly between them.
After a moment, the hubbub of voices falls silent and then a deep earthy voice says. “Good evening James. Good evening Michael.” There is a footstep or two, and then my hand is taken, raised and kissed. “And good evening Charlotte. Thank you for coming. You look beautiful.”
The voice and the kiss are accompanied by the waft of expensive aftershave and a rich, deeply masculine scent. My panties are becoming really quite uncomfortably wet and there is flush rising from my breasts over my chest and neck to my face. I am beginning to pant.
The voice continues. “Would you like something to help you relax Charlotte? Cognac perhaps? Although we probably have anything else you are likely to ask for?”
My voice emerges as a squeak. “Cognac would be lovely. Thank you.”
“Of course. Michael. James. Take the Lady to a chair. Let her be comfortable for a few minutes while we gather everyone together.”
Everyone?
Again, arms take mine, but I can tell that it is not now Michael or my Master. Something in the rhythm of the walk, the scent of musk and aroused masculinity, is not theirs. My two strange companions lead me, then gently guide me to sit. A glass is eased into my hands.
The brandy is aromatic and heady. I bury my nose in the glass, inhaling before I drink, sipping at first, then gulping down a couple of mouthfuls. Arousal and fear fight for first place within me and my pulse is racing, my heart pounding. Around me I can hear footsteps, stepping lightly, but all around me and soft, almost whispered comments on the edge of my hearing. About me.
I tip my head back to drain the glass, closing my eyes behind the blindfold.
The cognac works its magic and my nerves dissolve, leaving only electric arousal in its place.
Oh God! I want to be fucked.
I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.
Michael’s voice whispers by my ear. “It’s time Charlotte.” and he takes me by an elbow, raising me from the chair.
Another hand takes my other arm. It is my Master I know. The two lead me some distance and the echoes change quality. Then Michael, I know it is him, I can scent him, takes both my hands and clips cuffs around my wrists.
They don’t feel like the usual cuffs that Michael and my Master use; wider by some inches, snuggling my wrists and lower arms, encasing me and, linked together. They smell pleasantly of leather, creaking with my movement.
Michael moves me a little, positioning where I stand, then raises my arms. Something snaps into place above me, then pulls, tensioning my arms so that I am, not quite teetering, but certainly unable to move from my spot.
Strange hands cuff my ankles then ease my legs apart. I stagger a little but am supported at the wrists. My ankles are parted further, the cuffs pulling me into position. As my thighs part, my pussy lips are swelling and curling open and I feel hot wetness escaping my folds.
A male body slides up my legs and torso, pressing against me. He smells delicious, but unfamiliar. He kisses me, forcing my mouth open, roughly, tongue deep and briefly, very briefly, slips his hand between the folds of my wrap-around skirt and down between my thighs to feel between.
His voice is an announcement. “Oh yes, Gentlemen. She’s wet already.
The hand and the body withdraw, leaving me stranded, blind, suspended.
There are footsteps and then a voice.
“Now then Gentlemen. You know the rules. Aces high or low. The pot goes to the Lady. The winner of each hand has ten minutes of the next…. event…. with her.
They’re playing cards for me?
I hear soft noises; swishing, a soft slapping noise. Cards being dealt?
There is the rattle of small objects on a wooden surface (Chips going down?)
And voices:
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
“One more.”
“Fold.”
And the sound of cards flicking down on a table.
How can I hear this? Such a quiet sound. The echoes of the chamber?
“Seventeen.”
“Deal.”
Slap.
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
“Twenty-one!”
I never play cards, but even I know that twenty-one is a winner.
And now?
There is silence, interrupted by the scrape of a chair, several chairs, and footsteps., coming towards me.
“Hi.” I am a bit wobbly, but feel I should acknowledge my… guest?
A finger presses against my lips. I can’t speak?!?
Or he can’t speak? It’s against the rules?
A body moves, and clothes rustle, close to me.
Hands run over my clothes, flat against my stomach, around my waist, up and around my shoulders. Blindly, my lips open and I start to pant, my breathing growing faster by the moment.
The hands slide over my breasts; caressing, squeezing, massaging, then upwards over my neck and face. Fingers slip into my hair, finding pins and combs, removing each by turn, and releasing my red tresses to tumble down around my breasts and back. Hands brush my hair back behind me, over my shoulders, keeping my front exposed.
The fingers quest to the back of the halter-neck, struggling a little with the knot before releasing it and the straps falling loose. I feel them flapping free by my still-clothed breasts as a mouth fastens on to mine and now my breasts are grasped, hard, pinching at the nipples through fabric.
“The pot goes to the Lady.”
The mouth, kissing hard, pushes at me, tongue pushing inwards. I meet it. Opening to welcome this stranger. Blindfolded I might be, but he smells clean, wholesome - fuckable.
“Touch me.” I say. “I get it. You can’t speak. But I can. Touch me. Suck my tits. I want to be fucked.”
There is a sharp intake of breath and I feel, lower down, the growing hardness of an erection pressing against me through fabric. The fingers are unbuttoning my top, releasing my breasts. In my mind, I image myself, in my little black wrap-around skirt - so easy to remove - bare breasted, with the red silk blindfold, straddle-legged in the cuffs and armed stretched upwards, bound at the wrists.
My pussy is flowing. I must look red hot to them. Who is going to fuck me? How many are going to fuck me?
The halter neck top falls free and I am naked from the waist upwards. Lips fasten onto a breast, softly sucking, rolling a nipple between teeth and lips. A hand kneads at the other breast. Pleasures pulses through my veins and I moan, leaning into the caress.
Hot breath sweeps over my skin and the erection pressing against my leg hardens.
“Hot damn.” says a voice close by.
Is it him? Or is there an audience gathered around?
“Time!” shouts a voice, and there is a general murmuring and shuffling of feet. Many footsteps retreat and I hear chairs scraping again, followed by the faint swish of cards being dealt and the rattling sound again.
“Deal.”
“Damn.” Slap of cards on table, the clink of chips being moved.
Another voice. “Deal.”
“Deal.”
And the thump of a hand on table top. “Fold.”
Yet another voice. “Deal.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
“Twenty-one!”
This time, the immediate sound of chairs moving, followed by many footsteps.
Straddled and bound, blind-fold and half-naked, I feel powerful and alive. My sopping panties are truly uncomfortable and I cannot wait for them to be removed.
Another body approaches me, comes in close immediately, seizing me by the waist, pulling me in, making me gasp and arch my back in response.
Lips and teeth clamp onto a nipple. A hand seizes the other nipple. The spare hand slips south and inside the wrap-skirt.
The teeth are gently nibbling my already crinkle-hard nipples, alternating between left
and right, and I gasp and pant. Surely my heart beat can be heard around the room.
The hand inside the skirt fingers its way down inside my panties, exploring, seeking. There is a ‘Mmmff’ of satisfaction as my wet and swollen condition is discovered and the hand withdraws to fumble for the buttons of the wrap-around.
Something about the buttons foils the fingers, and after a few seconds of impatient groping at the fastenings, the hand loses patience and simply tugs, ripping the skirt from me, leaving me only in panties and stockings.
A loudly ‘whispered’ voice drifts over the room. “She’s soaked. Look!” Followed by several “Shhhh” s.
The red silk panties must be showing ever mark and hint of moisture. I picture myself, blind behind the silk binding my eyes, spread for inspection to my audience, bare breasted, sweat trickling between my flushed breasts, and my wetness showing dark against the scarlet silk of my knickers. When the panties go, I will have only my stockings and the necklace.
Breathing harder all the time, my excitement mounting, I feel my pulse beating hard its tempo against the leather restraints of the cuffs.
Something in the air movements around me tells me that the body close to me is standing back a little - displaying me. There is no sense of close-by physical heat, no scent of after-shave or male sweat.
Nonetheless, fingers are rubbing at my crotch, over the panties, pressing into my curls beneath and exploring down and in. It is exhilarating, electrifying; and I moan loudly, my hips leaning into the probing fingers.
The fingers slide inside the panties, between my hot and sensitive folds when a voice again calls “Time.”
I cannot help myself, and I groan with disappointment as the fingers withdraw and footsteps retreat from me. My hips are beginning to buck and tremble of their own accord, warm juices dribbling down inside my thighs.
The game resumes; the slap of cards on a table; the rattle of counters.
“Deal.”
Slap.
“Deal.”
Slap
“Deal”
Slap. “Damn.”
“Deal.”
Slap.
“Deal.”
“Twenty-one!”
I quiver at the words. Will I be fucked this time? Will someone finger my clit? Suck my pussy? I am aching for relief, conscious of my rock hard nipples and swollen cunt.
Again the sound of chairs being pushed back and footsteps (How many? How many are there?) and then a sense of warm breath in my face.
I am kissed, hard, open mouthed, tongue forcing in, then the mouth glides down over my breasts, briefly nipping soft teeth over a nipple and I yelp. There is a soft chuckle of satisfaction and the mouth continues down across my belly to hover over my spread thighs. Fingers stroke the soft inner skin, upwards towards my sex, but not yet touching and I moan, trembling and quivering uncontrollably.
“Oh God, please. Please….” I say, wanting to beg for more, but not knowing what the ‘Rules’ are.
The fingers respond, and a single finger slips up past the sodden silk of my crotch and inwards, stroking forwards to my bud. A second finger enters from the other side of my panties, pushing back the hood, exposing my throbbing clit.
The panties are pushed to one side and the mouth presses in, tonguing into me, swirling between my lips and over my clit. Any trace of self-control vanishes and I scream, writhing in my bonds, as electric heat pulses up through my cunt, belly and thighs.
Fingers push up inside me, two, three, stretching me wide, thrusting, first gently, then harder as I open, expanding within.
A voice drifts over. “I think the Lady is ready for a little more attention don’t you think Gentlemen? I would say she needs a good fucking to ease the strain. Probably several good fuckings. What do you say?”
There is a general murmur of agreement and voices speak out.
“Let’s get here down.”
“She’s itching for it.”
They’re right. I want to be filled. I want my brains fucked out. I want to suck cock and swallow cum. I want every man here to get his cock inside me somewhere and shoot his load in my cunt, my mouth, over my face or my tits. I want them singly and together.
Oh God! What am I doing?
But I want it nonetheless.
Metal clinks and I feel my ankles being released, then my raised arms are released and lowered. The handcuffs remain though.
Someone fumbles at my blindfold, but a voice says “No, leave that for now. She’s enjoying the mystery.”
And that’s right too. This faceless, anonymous sexual tension is delicious. I am spaced-out, exhilarated, hyper-aroused.
Hands take my cuffed wrists, leading me forward. More hands support me at the waist.
“Get the pants off her.”
And my saturated and useless panties are tugged away, leaving my urgently pulsing pussy to flow freely down my thighs.
“Bend her over.”
“No, on her back.”
“Ask her what she wants.”
“Not her choice now. We’ve got all evening. Everyone will get a turn. Bend her over.” It is my Master’s voice. And I am pushed down over some object, soft but firm, pressing upwards against my waist.
A hand presses down in the small of my back, and feet shove my ankles apart, spreading me. There is the sound of a zip and a cock presses to my mouth. Fingers part my pussy lips to the rear.
I am about to have the fucking of a lifetime.
Part Four - The Virgin Unleashed
Blindfolded and bent forward at the waist over some padded object, a cock presses to my lips. Despite my blindness, I know it is my Master from his delicious musky scent. Speaking down to me, his voice is low. I do not think that the other men in the room will hear him.
“Are you alright Charlotte? You can handle this?”
“Yes Master. I’m fine.” And I reach forward, as best I can from my awkward position, to take his cock in my mouth. It trembles and twitches against my lips as I lick away the briny droplet of pre-cum I can taste on the tip.
A body is behind me, fingers toying with my pussy lips, winding into my wet curls and rippling through my folds. My Master’s voice again. “That’s Michael behind you right now. But it’s going to be all of them. You’re okay with that?”
I pull away from sucking my Master’s delicious erection. “Yes Master. I’m fine with that. I…. I… want…”
Lost as to how to express my state of sheer molten arousal, my words trail away. In the last hour or so, I have been shackled and stretched upwards on some sort of frame, my wrists cuffed and blindfolded, while a group of men, I am unsure how many, have played cards for me. Each winner had the privilege of removing some part of my clothing, fondling me, playing with me….
If I don’t get fucked soon, I am going to ignite.
Reaching again for the wonderful mouthful of my Master’s seeping cock, I slip my tongue into the slit, whirling my tongue around the head. Using his hand, sighing above me, he guides himself into me, working himself into my mouth, but letting me set the pace. Michael’s fingers are still playing with my pussy, slippery with my own juices. And it’s not just between my legs. My thighs are wet as hot fluid trickles down over the skin.
He teases me, tickling at my pussy lips, running his fingers through my slit and playing with my sweet spot. The fingers hover for a moment over my asshole, but then pass by. Bending forward over me, erection pressing into my back, he whispers close by my ear. “Some of the men here tonight wanted to take you there. You would have one, perhaps even two in your mouth, and one in each entrance to the rear. But we didn’t allow that. James bought your virginity. I’m having your other virginity. But not now. Not tonight.”
My other virginity? I hadn’t even considered that, but the very thought sends a rush through me and another flood of juices make their heated way to trickle down to my knees.
Michael has pulled back and is busy flirting with my engorged and dripping sex. My mouth is f
ull of my Master’s cock and other thoughts fade away.
Michael’s mouth fastens around my pussy, his hot breath over my ass and his tongue flicking into me. Whimpering, I squirm as he licks circles around my inner muscles, waves of pleasure pulsing up through my belly.