Buying the Virgin Box Set Four - The Virgin and the Masters: BDSM, Punishment, and Ménage between a Young Woman, her Master and her Lover

by Simone Leigh

  We have no real decorations, and Michael refuses point blank to even consider going to buy any, so I have trawled through old cupboards, draws and hidey-holes in the hotel to see if I could find anything that would pass for Christmas decor. The result is odd, but colourful, as Michael, suddenly revealing a talent for origami, has shown me how to make stars and birds by folding paper. Using brightly coloured pages from old magazines has produced stars and birds the like of which nature never saw, but on our tree, they look great.

  “No candles.” he says. After all the work I’ve put in here, I don’t want to accidentally set light to the place now.”

  ___________________________________________

  Michael

  Sitting by the kitchen range that evening, its heat warding off the bitter cold of the December night, I watch Charlotte, happily making more paper birds, like some little girl at school.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “As though you’re trying to work something out…”

  “Perhaps because I am trying to work something out.”

  She says nothing, simply gives me a questioning look, but her ‘pretty and innocent’ mask fades to her ‘feral’ face; that expression that says, this is who she is, and to hell with anyone who doesn’t like it.

  And James thinks she’s a sub….

  “I’m trying to join the dots…. make sense of you.”

  Now she looks surprised. “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “I don’t follow.” Suddenly, she looks worried. “You’re not annoyed with me about something, are you?”

  In my driest voice, “No more than usual.”

  She grins. “What then?”

  “It’s hard to put into words. I saw you, earlier, back in the offices, facing off me, James and Richard, over something you feel strongly about….” I point a finger at her…. “And by the way, I’m not fooled by your apparent surrender.…”

  “You threatened to carry me out over your shoulder….”

  I ignore the comment. “I think about some of the things you’ve seen and experienced; the very worst of human nature. And you’ve come through it, for the most part unscathed. But I know it’s marked you. You have nightmares sometimes, and I see your reactions when you are asked questions about your past. And I know you scare, but you don’t let being scared stop you. You’ve got a core of solid rock….”

  She is utterly silent, watching me, wide-eyed….

  “…. But then, I compare you to the Charlotte I saw just now, making paper birds. And the Charlotte I first met, that day when James had bought you only the previous day. And you had that look, the same one you’ve got now. James had taken your virginity the day before. You behaved like a young girl who had just surrendered her virginity…. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly how it went with the two of you, but he was satisfied that you were the genuine article, that he was your first man; that you behaved like a girl who’d not been naked with a man before, especially an older man…”

  “Don’t you believe me?” she whispers. “After all this time, you think I was lying?”

  “No, I don’t think that. Because I met you the very next day, and you were…. so sweet.…” I shake my head. “I’m having trouble matching up Charlotte-the-Almost-a-Virgin that I first met with the Charlotte-Been-Through-Hell that I only learned of much later. I can’t connect the two. You must have seen assault and rape of all kinds when you were trapped in Blessingmoors, and yet, so far as I can see, when James.... took you…. you behaved like an innocent.”

  She shrugs, then stares at the ground. “Assault, beating… yes, I saw plenty of that. I was on the receiving end of some of it. Rape? No, actually, I didn’t. As the kids began to grow up, they took them away ….” She pauses, apparently thinking. “I’d never thought about it until you just put it that way…. but, yes, sometimes the staff would feel up some of the children, especially as the girls got older, but it was never actual rape.……Perhaps there was an instruction on the staff? Not to touch them? Virgins bring a higher price don’t they…?”

  My stomach churns. How does she live with it? Her past?

  She continues. “…and as for ‘sweet’…” She beams a smile like a ray of sunshine…. “I’m glad you thought I was sweet. With everything that’s happened, it brought the three of us together.” Her eyes are shining as she looks at me.

  Oh, God…. When you look at me like that….

  “How do you feel about an early night?”

  She throws her ‘vamp eyes’ at me. “I’d love an early night…”

  ___________________________________________

  Even with the fire burning, the bedroom is not actually cosy, but the heat of the stove percolates through the walls from the kitchen, so it’s not bad. And there’s plenty of blankets on the bed.

  “Get under the covers, quickly. Don’t get cold.” I say. She peels off her clothes with fast, economic moves and slips between the sheets, then, lying back on the pillow, framed by her long, red hair and one arm curved gracefully back over her head, watches me undress. Just seeing her do that gets me going, my cock twitching to life as our eyes meet. As I unzip and step out of my jeans, she grins broadly when she sees I am already erect for her.

  I just want to push that in your mouth, Babe….

  And you know it, don’t you…?

  As I step towards the bed, she opens her mouth, inviting me.

  And how do I say no to that?

  She teases me, offering her mouth, but not taking me in. Instead, she swipes her tongue over my cock-head, lapping away pre-cum, licking her lips and making a show of enjoying it. My breath shudders and my balls tighten, so I stare at the ceiling for a moment, reining myself in. When I look down again, she’s still looking up at me, all big eyes and that little-girl-lost look she uses when she wants something, or when she’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes.

  But, when she’s got her mouth around my cock, it’s hard to resist….

  She slides a hand under my balls, massaging and working them, pressing on the root of my shaft. And her mouth works up from the base, lapping and licking, working the ridge of the head, before she takes me inside, sucking gently, working the shaft with her hands.

  I could just blow off right into her mouth right now, cover her tongue and watch her swallow, spray her face and tits with the last of it….

  But I want to watch you come first, Babe….

  I start to pull away. I want to work her, but she resists, mischief in her eyes as she grips my balls, holding me to the spot. I prise her fingers off me, and she giggles. “Straddle me.” I say.

  I lie down and she swings a leg over me. “No, not like that. Over my face, and turn around.”

  She gets it, swinging around, crouching over me on all fours, presenting me with her thighs and pussy whilst, once more, wrapping her lips over my shaft

  Her pussy, warm and wet, and so close to me, smells deliciously of her arousal. I love the scent of her anyway, and here, poised just above my lips, I have her pink, wet slit to enjoy, swelling and opening almost as I watch.

  I ‘Aaahhhh’ hot breath across her pussy and lips, and she twitches, the movement transmitting through her legs, where her thighs straddle my head.

  It’s not easy to move under her, so instead, I grab her ass in both hands, rocking her back and forth a little, just enough that my tongue can sweep both her pussy and clit in a stroke, and she wriggles and squirms, beginning to whimper.

  And I love the noises she’s making.

  Parting her pussy lips with fingers, I spread her wide, opening and stretching her entrance. Planting my mouth over her, I swipe inside her with my tongue, her juices running down hot, as she shudders and trembles over me. Her salty, lemony-tasting, cunt pulses in my mouth, and as I release a hand to work her clit, the heat of her washes over my face and the still-growing pungency of her arousal fills my nostrils.

  She is no long
er sucking me. Instead, her head lies over my groin, her breath fluttering hot over my thighs and balls as her whole body shivers and vibrates. Her torso and breasts pressed against me, her heartbeat resonates through me.

  She’s very liquid now, and her whimpering turns to moaning. I lick circles through her cunt, and she spasms and jerks, her muscles trying to clench around me….

  Oh God, Baby. I’m looking forward to getting my cock in here….

  She’s close to coming. The tension is building in her; just a little more….

  Dipping fingers into her streaming cunt, coating them in her honey, I reach up and around her, easing one into her ass, circling inside the muscle as I do so.

  She wails, and her entire body tenses, her breathing rapid and short, her heart hammering through me. She pauses for a long second and then her cunt goes into spasm above me. I plunge in my tongue, as deeply as I can, while she screams and howls, and her flesh pulsates around me. Pussy juices gush into my mouth, and her thighs, hard with tension, stretch and strain around me as she rides her orgasm.

  As the moment passes, I push her upwards, rolling her from me, turning to prise her knees apart, get between her thighs, and fill her with my erection. As I plunge in, she is still trembling in the aftermath of orgasm, and she wails as I penetrate, spearing her.

  Swinging her hips up, she wraps her legs around me, allowing me deeper entry. She takes me all the way in and I hilt myself, full length inside her. She’s slick and ready, and fucking her is just pure pleasure as she howls my name. Clutching at my shoulders with one hand, she locks the other into my hair, rocking her body to match my thrusting, meeting me, our bodies colliding.

  As my climax comes close, I seize her by the hips, pulling her hard to me. In the final moment, I press my face into her shoulder, spurting my load into her in a violent orgasm that wracks my body, leaving me shaking and panting.

  I flop down onto her, my heart pounding. Kissing the side of my face, she strokes my hair, wiping away the sweat dripping from my forehead.

  Gathering myself together again, pulling my weight up onto my elbows and looking down, she lies there in a tumble of wild hair, her face also running with perspiration, flushed with heat, her mascara beginning to run.

  She looks amazing. She looks up at me, smiling and tracing the line of my face with a finger.

  …. I know what she’s going to say….

  “My Golden Lover.…” she murmurs.

  “Any time you want me…” I reply.

  ___________________________________________

  Charlotte

  The dead of night:

  Under heaps of bedcovers, our bedroom lit by the single candle we keep burning through the night, and the remains of the embers, glowing in the hearth, I lie, loosely entwined with Michael. I can’t sleep at all, fretful with worry, and I simply rest there, watching his beautiful face.

  In the dim, golden light, his features are a pattern of light and shade, finely formed; the defined line of his mouth set against a pale stubble where he’s not had chance to shave. My pussy is a little sore from that, but I’ll not say such a thing to him. And his beautiful blond hair contrasts with oddly dark lashes, which, eyes open, frame their fantastic blue, but now, on his sleeping face, give him an oddly childlike look.

  Never would I watch him like this waking. But now, free to gaze, I take simple pleasure in the beauty of my Golden Lover.

  Outside there is a small noise, a splintering sound, as of breaking glass. Michael’s eyes snap open, locking with mine.

  He raises a finger to his mouth, pressing it against his lips, as he reaches under the bed, and pulls out his long-handled wood axe. He stands, naked, his breath a steam cloud, as he positions himself behind the door.

  Holding the axe in one hand, he points to me, and thumbs me out of the bed, then points to the bolster and waves a finger pointing down the length of the bed. Moving as quickly and quietly as I can, I rise, push the bolster lengthwise under the blankets to resemble a human body and riffle the sheets over the top, so that it’s not too obvious there is no head on the pillow. Then, as quickly as I can, I slip on the warmest clothes I have to hand, plus my steel-capped work boots, and gather Michael’s clothes together, ready to pass to him.

  There is a creak outside the door.

  Michael stands, poised, the axe held with both hands supporting it, ready to swing at whatever comes through the door. I’ve seen Michael wield that axe, splitting wood. And our Christmas tree of earlier today, barely resisted his blows. He knows how to use it.

  I stand well behind him, keeping out of range of the blade.

  The door opens slowly, grating on ancient hinges. From our vantage point, out of sight of the intruder, all we see is the silhouette of a handgun.

  As the gun, and the hand holding it, come into clear view, Michael brings the axe down, at the last-minute twisting it so that, not the edge, but the butt of the head contacts the hand.

  I’m not sure this is an improvement for the owner of the hand. There is a scream. The gun fires, and the bolster and blankets jump under the impact of the bullet. The hand itself is not severed, but surely every bone is smashed. The gun drops to the ground and I snatch it up. For good measure, Michael brings the flat of the axe head against the gun-owner’s screaming head, and he falls silent.

  “Come on.” he says urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “You can’t go out like that; stark naked into two feet of snow.”

  “You’re right.” He grabs his boots, shoving his feet in, stuffing the laces inside for speed. “Bring those clothes.”

  He’ll fuckin’ freeze….

  “Where do we go?”

  “There’s a walkers’ shelter, only a few hundred yards down the trail. It’s not far, but they won’t find it in the dark without knowing it’s there. Let’s aim for there, and then we can take a breather.”

  How many are there of them?

  Michael has only the boots he is wearing and his axe. I carry his clothes and grab my phone, stuffing it into a pocket, thanking all the powers that I’d thought to charge it up before I came home, At the last moment, I remember a couple of chocolate bars that are in a bedside drawer, stuffing them into my other pocket. And as we leave, I pull a blanket from the top of the bed.

  We make our way, silently into the night. But as we leave through the back door, there are voices approaching us.

  “Into the woodshed.” hisses Michael.

  Backed into the shadows, we stand silently, but the voices pass by. As we leave, for good measure I pick up a stout stick. It’s not much of a weapon against a gun, but I feel better having it.

  He had the axe under the bed….

  “You were ready for them. You thought they might come here?”

  “If I’d really been paying attention, I would have slept with some clothes on.”

  The night is bitter. Late December; Christmas only just around the corner and there is snow on the ground. There is only a cheese rind of a moon, but with the snow, reflecting shades of blue and purple into a velvet, spangled sky, we can see quite well.

  “Which way?”

  “Under the trees, into the shadows.”

  As quickly as we can, we slip through the darkness, from one blue shadow to the next.

  How many are there?

  Shivering violently, Michael says, “Don’t hang around. If they find our footprints, we’re in trouble.”

  “Here.” I wrap the blanket around his naked torso, and he clutches it one-handedly at his neck, his other hand still holding the axe.

  Behind us I can men talking; two voices I think, but I can’t make out their words, then, there, right behind me, the sound of footsteps crunching in snow….

  Michael hears it too, and whirling, he drops the blanket…. “Duck!” he says…. I drop to the ground, hearing the whoosh of the axe swinging above me, a soft and silken sound that cuts through the air and ends in a shriek, as the axe connects, flat-headed, wit
h something above me.

  There is a muffled scream as a body drops behind me, and I jump on it, pressing my hand over the crushed and splintered remains of a face, which tries to scream at me all the while I struggle to keep it gagged.

  The neck below the face has a tie, so I unknot it and stuff it into the mouth, then pick up the gun which dropped into the snow beside the body.

  Leaving the squirming body behind us, Michael and I run into the night.

  In the walkers’ shelter, Michael can finally pull on his clothes. He is badly chilled, and takes a minute or so to stamp the heat back into his legs, beating his arms about himself. I produce the chocolate, and we eat a bar apeice. We’re going to need the calories.

  It is very dark in here, and I can only just make out the white of his eyes as he says, “Well done, keeping a cool head like that. Most women would have gone into a panic when a bloody corpse dropped behind them.”

  “He wasn’t a corpse, was he? I could see you took him with the flat of the axe. And he had a gun. They both did....”

  “Still, you kept your head well, gagging him like that. If he’s really lucky, he might freeze first, instead of bleeding to death.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t panic. I’ll save the hysterical breakdown for later, when we’re safe.”

  “Good girl.” He kisses me on the head. “We’ll head up the trail and take some of the side tracks. Under the trees, we should be able to avoid leaving too many footprints, and I’m not sure they’ll follow us into the dark.”

  “Where are we heading?”

  “There’s another highway, six or seven miles along. If we can make it there, we’ll be able to thumb a lift back to the City.”

  I wave my phone at him, flicking on the screen. Concealed in the shelter, the light cannot betray us now.

  In the dim light, and with my night vision well-adjusted, I can see Michael’s face clearly now. “Your phone!” His smile lights up. “I didn’t realise.”