It was to a stone building he led her, the outside of which bore a heavy, metal-studded door with two blazing torches set to either side of the entry. When he stopped, he rapped three times, paused, and rapped twice more, waited and then knocked a sixth time.
The door swung open with a shriek that raised the hair on the nape of Barbara's neck. It was a creaking sound—like something from an old horror movie—but there was no stooped gatekeeper dressed in rags to greet them, but another tall man whose complexion in the torchlight was like warm honey.
"Is this the one?” the new man asked. He, too, was bare-chested and wore the same white linen pants that Neville wore.
"Aye, it is,” Neville growled. He pushed Barbara ahead of him into the cool depths of the stone building.
"Best get her prepared before the Master arrives,” the gatekeeper said. “You know he does not like to be kept waiting."
Barbara heard the door shriek again then shut, the sound of a heavy lock falling into place. She started to look toward the portal but Neville let go of her arm and snagged his fingers in the neckline of her caftan and with one mighty tug of his powerful wrists, rent the material all the way down the front.
"No!” Barbara gasped, trying in vain to block his view of her naked breasts and dark triangle by slapping her arms and hands over those areas.
"There is no modesty here, little one,” Neville stated and finished ripping the caftan from her body. “We wish to see what we are getting for our money."
Before she could protest, the other man slipped an arm behind her back and the other under her knees and lifted her against his bare chest.
"She weighs little more than a kitten,” the man said.
Barbara had to bite her tongue to keep from saying that might be true if the kitten weight one hundred and eighty pounds!
"Aye, Jackson,” Neville replied. “She is a small thing."
The one called Jackson was moving deeper into the dark shadows of the stone building and the air was almost chill on her naked flesh. She hid her face against his chest and felt the sparse hairs circling his nipple tickling her nose.
She had the sensation of being carried below ground level and when she peeked, she was immediately unnerved by the thick stone walls, the chains hanging from bare rafters, torchlight flickering on the stone, a bubbling cauldron that gave off copious steam and drums playing softly and hypnotically in the background.
"W ... where are we?” she asked.
"In the Dungeon of the Master,” Neville snapped. “Now ask no more questions!"
Jackson carried her to a low stone slab fashioned in the form of a wide X and laid her down. The surface was cold and she gasped and would have sat but Neville grabbed her wrists, Jackson her ankles and, before she could protest their actions, found herself shackled with golden chains.
Tucking her head down against her shoulder, for she felt so exposed with her arms and legs flung wide, her thighs gaping to the view of the two men, Barbara whimpered softly. She wasn't afraid as much as she was embarrassed.
Neville was above her head and reached down to take her cheeks between his palms so she could not move her head. He bent over her but his face was in shadow, the dark silhouette of his body rimmed by the flare of a torch behind him. His deep voice spilled over her like jets of warm water.
"Prepare yourself, little one, for the Master comes,” Neville said.
She knew what the Master would look like before he ever stepped foot inside the dungeon room. He would be handsome and virile and muscular. He would be powerful and strong and he would be white.
"How much did she cost me?"
She knew that voice!
"Five hundred gold sovereigns, Master,” Neville replied. “And worth every one, I'll wager."
"That will be for me to decide,” the Master stated.
She felt a hand on her ankle and quivered as it moved upward, stroking her leg gently but firmly.
"A virgin?” His voice was sensuous and mesmerizing.
"Just as you prefer, Master,” Jackson answered.
"How do you know she's a virgin?” Neville asked. “Have you tested her, Jackson?"
"No,” Jackson answered.
"We'll soon find out,” the Master declared. He came to stand by Barbara's head and she was disappointed to see he wore a black mask that covered his handsome face though he, too, was bare from the waist up. He nodded at Jackson.
Jackson trailed his fingers up Barbara's thigh then dipped them between her spread legs. He threaded his fingers through her crisp curls and tugged lightly. “You aren't going to say no to me, are you, little one?” he asked, squeezing her mound firmly but gently.
"No,” she said and gasped as he ran the tip of his finger quickly over her clit.
"I know you'd better not,” he growled then slipped his middle finger deep inside her. He wiggled it as he pressed hard into her.
"Virgin?” the Master inquired.
"As tight as a steel drum, Sir,” Jackson observed. He dipped his finger in and out of her. “But she's in need of a good taking."
The Master was standing with his brawny arms crossed over his chest. “Tell me what you want them to do, Barbara."
She wanted to whimper that it was him she wanted but Stacy's warning came back to torment her: "He's off limits. He doesn't do clients."
Barbara licked her lips. “I want them to take me,” she said and could feel her juices flowing around Jackson's finger as he continued to thrust it into her.
"No, little one,” Jackson said. “Tell him in a way he wants to hear."
She made her voice small and hesitant, embarrassed. “I want them to fuck me, Master,” she said.
"With what?” Jackson prodded, moving his finger in and out of her wet channel. “What do you want us to fuck you with?"
"Fuck me with your hard cocks,” she breathed.
"Aye, they are hard,” Jackson said. “Harder than anything you've ever had before.” He stepped back and freed himself quickly from his trousers. He came around the slab so she could see the massive shaft he held in his hand. “Don't you agree?"
"Yes,” she breathed, staring at his long, dark, thick rod.
Barbara trembled as Neville lowered his head, slanting his full lips over hers, taking her breath away with the intensity and strength of his kiss. She was keenly aware of Jackson reaching his hands over her breasts, his mouth going to the juncture of her thighs. Her hips arched upward of their own accord and she cried out as his tongue slid unerringly along her tender folds.
"Umm,” Jackson growled.
"How does she taste, Jackson?” the Master inquired.
"Sweet as molasses,” Jackson replied.
Neville swept his tongue into Barbara's mouth as Jackson swept his into her cunt. Jackson's fingers were tweaking her breasts, his thumbs rubbing roughly over them. Barbara shuddered violently beneath their combined touch.
"Why don't you unshackle her and move to the pallet?” the Master asked. “The night grows cold and she is in need of warming."
She felt fingers on her wrists and ankles and then she was being lifted in Neville's powerful arms this time. He carried her to a pallet laid on the stone floor and laid down with her spooned against his chest as Jackson joined them, lying down to face her.
Glancing back to see where the Master was, she saw him sitting on the stone slab with foot on the slab, his knee crooked, his wrist resting on that knee, the other leg dangling over the side as he watched them. “Warm her well, gentlemen,” he instructed.
Jackson's cock was a solid bulge against her front seeking entrance into her wet heat and Neville's building erection was pressing against her behind, sliding along the crack of her ass. Both men's hands were all over her—touching her, stroking her, massaging her, pinching lightly, tweaking, and crawling over like passion-drugged spiders.
Neville pushed hard against her backside. “Do you?” he whispered.
"Do I what?” she asked breathlessly.
; "Take it in the ass,” he replied.
A thrill ran through her. Her college boyfriend had tried it once, and then absolutely refused to do it that way with her again, considering it disgusting. She enjoyed it immensely and just the thought of Neville's hard, thick cock pushing into her almost made her come.
"Yes,” she said quickly.
"Later, then,” Jackson said. He pulled her away from Neville and sat, pushed down the elastic waistband of his pants, and allowed his heavy cock to leap out. He wrapped his fist around his heavy rod.
She straddled his legs, and impaled herself on his hard erection, sliding down on him until he was seated deeply inside her wet channel. Neville sat, too, and moved close behind her, rubbing himself against the small of her back as she rode Jackson.
Pulling down the top of her dress so he could have access to her breasts to suckle them, Drake feasted on her creamy flesh as his brother claimed Wendy's mouth for his own banquet.
Pure lust writhed through Barbara's body. Her climax was one of the strongest she'd ever had and barely had the tremors echoed away than Neville had her down on the pallet as he took her from behind, pushing firmly and heatedly into her anus, his cock as hard as steel. His hands were clamped to her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pummeled her with just the right amount of force. To add to her delight, Jackson lay down beside her, put his hand to her clit, and began to roll the ultra-sensitive nubbin between his thumb and forefinger in time to his brother's powerful thrusts while sliding his middle finger in and out of her cleft.
"Yes!” she screamed as she came, Neville's hard tool going perfectly still inside her as he released his seed.
"Turn her over,” Jackson ordered.
Barbara gasped as Neville pulled out of her and flipped her over as though she were a flapjack.
"Be gentle with her, men,” the Master warned in a voice that brooked no argument.
With Neville holding her down, Jackson got to his knees between her legs and spread her thighs wide, inserting first one then two fingers into her warm cleft. He twisted his fingers, slid them in and out, until she was thick with juices and writhing beneath his touch.
"You belong to us, little one,” Jackson growled. “When we want you, you better learn to do nothing but lie down and spread your thighs. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir,” she said, dragging in breaths in excited gasps.
He grabbed her hips, jerking her toward him. With one deft move, he was inside her again and pistoning away, filling her to capacity with his hard prick.
Barbara came again so quickly she could not believe it was happening. She screamed her release and would have dug her fingernails into Jackson's back had Neville not grabbed her wrists to keep her from doing so.
"Easy, little one,” Neville said softly. Panting, she collapsed against him.
"That's enough for one night. Take her back to her room and let her regain her strength. She'll need it for tomorrow,” she heard the Master say and was dimly aware of him sliding off the slab and walking away into the darker shadows.
A warm blanket was wrapped around her, she snuggled down into it, and Jackson lifted her against him. She laid her head on his chest and as he gently carried her, she fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Two
She was sore when she woke the next morning. It had been years since she'd had a loving as thorough—if ever—and as she stretched beneath the cool silk sheets in that huge king-size bed, Barbara knew a contentment she had never known. She stared at the beams of the ceiling overhead and watched the fan blades turning lazily. The sun was coming through a slit in the blinds and she just lay there and listened to the waves of the Caribbean breaking on the shores of Mistral Cay.
Hearing her tummy growl, she realized she hadn't eaten that much the evening before and found she was hungry. Tossing aside the covers, she got out of bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom. After a quick shower, she pulled on one of the many caftans she found in the closet and with only a small bit of unease at leaving the room sans bra and panties, slipped her feet into a pair of comfortable sandals and went down to the dining room.
After ordering an omelet and fried potatoes with onions and green peppers, she was sipping her hot, fragrant coffee when a shadow fell across her table. Looking up, she was delighted to see the spa's owner, Julian St. John.
"May I join you?” he asked. He was carrying a huge mug of coffee.
"Please,” Barbara said and her gaze slid over his crisp white shirt and black trousers as he pulled the chair back and took a seat. He was such a handsome man and his warm smile and friendly eyes set her at ease.
"Did you enjoy your fantasy last evening?” he asked, putting his coffee mug on the table before him.
Barbara blushed. “Very much,” she said. She bit her lip then asked if it had been him playing the Master in her fantasy.
Julian smiled but did not answer. He simply relaxed in the chair, bracing his forearms on the tabletop.
"My friend Stacy said you never join in the fantasies,” she said.
His smiled widened. “That's because my wife would emasculate me if I did,” he said softly.
"Oh,” she said, feeling a bit dejected that he was married. “Does that mean you won't be a part of the fantasy tonight?"
He nodded. “Yes, but I can promise you the man who will be there this evening will more than please you.” He took a sip of coffee. “My wife was a client here a few years ago."
"Really?” Barbara said, intrigued. “And were you her helper?"
He grinned like a little boy. “Oh yes. The minute I saw her, I knew I'd never let another man ever touch her again.” He leaned forward. “That's not to say she hasn't had lots of men since then—pirates, cowboys, cable men, a horny gynecologist, a few medieval knights—but they've all looked a lot like yours truly."
She laughed. “You two do the fantasy thing, as well, then."
"Indeed we do,” he replied. “Life is meant to be lived, Barbara, and Silkie and I live it to its fullest."
"That's nice,” she said with a sigh. “I wish I could find a man with whom I could share my very rich fantasy life."
Julian's left eyebrow slid upward. “Well, who's to say a pretty lady from Climax, Georgia won't find a handsome man from Intercourse, Pennsylvania to play with?"
Barbara laughed loudly and had to cover her mouth, her face turning red at her outburst. “You're wicked,” she accused.
Julian pushed his chair back. “Bad to the bone, my lady,” he said as he got to his feet. “Enjoy yourself, Barbara. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?” He said goodbye and sauntered over to another table where another woman was sitting alone and dreamily looking out the wide window that overlooked the beach.
Barbara sighed deeply as she stared at Julian's seductive ass in those tight black trousers. Her palms actually itched to cup those cheeks and squeeze.
"Miss Allan?"
She jumped and looked away from Julian's rump to see Jackson standing beside her table. “Oh, good morning, Jackson,” she said, feeling a bit awkward with a man who had known her so intimately the evening before.
"Your appointment with the good doctor will be at ten o'clock,” Jackson said. “Please don't keep him waiting.” He bowed slightly and left.
His words had started heaviness between her legs that Barbara was unaccustomed to feeling. She squeezed her thighs together. The waiter took that moment to bring her breakfast.
"Enjoy,” the waiter said.
As hungry as she was, all Barbara could think about was the G Fantasy she had chosen from the catalogue. She wondered how many women in the room had picked that particular fantasy. Surreptitiously looking about her, she would have wagered most of them had. It was all she could do to keep her mind on the food before her and off the sensual images which were flitting across her libido.
* * * *
Her appointment was in the building beside the main spa area and as Barbara walked out into the bright light
of the sunny Caribbean day, she couldn't stop gawking at the naked men and women strolling along the palm-shaded pathways. They were totally unconcerned with their nudity and she wondered if she'd ever have the nerve to do something so daring.
The door to the building Barbara sought looked like any other of it's kind. It bore the name of the physician, his hours, and a stylized Caduceus—the twined snakes upon the staff that was the symbol of the medical profession. When she entered the reception area, she was surprised to see a woman sitting at the desk since the spa's employees were mainly male.
"Please have a seat, Miss Allan,” the woman said with a smile. “The doctor's running a bit behind."
Feeling self-conscious, Barbara took a seat on a vinyl-covered sofa and reached for a magazine among the spread on the glass coffee table in front of her. Sitting back, she idly thumbed through the glossy magazine without really looking that closely at what was on the pages. She was nervous—just as she always was at her regular physician's office—but even more so considering why she was there.
"Miss Allan?"
The magazine rattled in her hand as she looked up.
"The doctor will see you now,” the receptionist informed her. “It's right through there.” She pointed to the only other door in the room.
Laying the magazine aside, Barbara got shakily to her feet and smoothed down the front of her caftan. She smiled at the receptionist as she passed the desk and opened the door to find Jackson—in a white lab coat and dark trousers—waiting on the other side.
"Do you need to visit the restroom before your exam?” Jackson asked.
Barbara nodded, unable to find her voice. She headed for the door he pointed out to her. Once inside the restroom, she shut the door and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and edgy but there were two bright rosy spots high on her cheeks as she hastily washed and dried her hands. Once more she nervously smoothed her caftan then opened the door and went out into the hall.
"Right this way,” Jackson said, walking ahead of her. He led her to a set of scales and weighed her, much to Barbara's chagrin. She could have foregone the weighing and the measurement of her height. He had her sit in a chair beside the scale and took her temperature, her blood pressure, her pulse and when that was finished he ushered her to the exam room, opening the door for her to precede him.
Seasonal Winds: Summer Wind Page 2