Horseplay
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I had a dreadful sense of foreboding as we left home to go to Debra’s for dinner.
Vicky had, as usual, chosen what I was to wear. She always liked me in blue and she chose a dress, knee length, that didn’t allow for a bra. The top was low-backed and loose so that if I was careless my boobs were almost but not quite exposed. The skirt was ragged bottomed and full. Stockings, suspenders and transparent silk knickers were all the underwear she had selected.
For herself, Vicky had donned a long leather skirt in mid brown with her wonderful chestnut ankle boots. Above that she wore a white silk blouse that was tight enough to reveal she was wearing a bra, a bra that was not thick enough to hide her beautiful nipples completely.
‘Pour us a drink, darling. I feel like a g and t this evening.’ Dutifully I poured two drinks, ensuring to pour the Hendricks gin over ice and cucumber as she liked it. I took it to her as she stood looking out over the garden through the large French windows. It was late spring by then, the evenings getting longer, some cherry blossom visible and blackthorn growing in the hedge. It was impossible to resist the urge to touch her as I handed her the drink so I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. She smiled and her hand went straight into the top of my dress and cupped my tit. She squeezed my nipple, not hard.
‘You do look good in blue.’
‘You look good in anything.’
Her lovely eyes smiled. ‘Flatterer. Cheers.’ She took a sip of her gin. ‘Debra will be strangling a chicken about now I expect. She hates cooking so its possible she’ll have invited one of her “servants” to do the honours.’
‘Does she have many?’
‘Simply dozens. She treats them all like shit but she’s such a champion in the sack that they can’t get enough of her. Men, women, they are all the same. She was telling me on the ‘phone that she’d recently discovered that her hairdresser is of the “dyke persuasion,” as she so delicately put it. Reckons she’ll never have to pay to have her hair done again. You looking forward to this evening?’ Her eyes explored mine as she asked.
Now, there was the question. I was never sure if she talked about Debra simply to make me nervous. She loved mind fucking me almost as much as the other sort.
‘I always enjoy going out with you.’ A diplomatic answer I thought.
Nothing got past Vicky’s quick mind. ‘That wasn’t quite the answer to the question I asked was it?”
‘No, Miss.’
‘No, it wasn’t the answer, or no, Miss, I’m not looking forward to this evening?’
‘Both to tell the honest truth.’
She turned and touched my face. ‘You’ll be fine. I’ve told you before.’ She kissed me then, firmly.
‘Come on, whimp. Let’s get to Deb’s before the chicken is ruined and see what happens.’
Vicky has the countrywoman’s scorn for drink driving laws. When you live deep in the country the chances of the Police stopping you are almost nil. So we got into the Landrover, her weapon of choice for drunk driving, and we bumped and banged our way out of the farmhouse grounds onto the road that led to Debra’s estate. She, like so many of Vicky’s friends, was ‘landed.’ Her aged husband had been the source of her wealth and he had, as she predicted at Burns Night, dropped off his perch in the February. This left Debra a widow, wealthy, with a huge estate and not by any means an unmerry one at that.
At the funeral she had said to me, ‘The old bugger went to eternity with a smile. I saw to that. Black suits you, darling. If Vicky will let you stay after the wake I’ll fuck you if you like. No point in hanging around weeping. Last thing he’d have wanted or expected.’
I mean!
The drive to her house, a pile of stone and thatch somewhat larger than Vicky’s, was rutted and spoke of generations of farming. We finally got there and I had been hoping we’d lose a tyre or experience some other breakdown but it was not to be. The last of the spring day's sunshine was weak and cast a mellow glow over everything.
‘I wish she’d get that drive repaired,’ said Vicky as we got out of the Landrover. ‘Makes me need a pee. Probably why she doesn’t.’
The front door was open and Vicky banged on the inner door which was opened by the grieving widow, wearing black.
‘Still in mourning, Debs?’
‘Don’t be so fucking silly. I just look sexier in black.’ She kissed Vicky full on the lips and then did the same to me. Her hand accidentally (or not) slipped over my breast as she did so. ‘Lovely!’
‘Debs, keep your hands off my tart. You’ll get chicken fat on her nice dress.’
‘Not chicken tonight. We slaughtered a pig. Much more fun. Come on in, there is someone I want you to meet. She’s called Polly.’
‘The barber?’
‘Hairdresser and very particular about it. Married, of course, but left the baggage at home so she could spend a debauched night with Aunty Debra. Absolute corker in the sheets, aren’t you Pols?’
Polly was standing in the room we had entered as Debra had been saying this. Willowy, stunningly pretty, tall and slim. Her dress was a mix of spring flower colours, almost knee length and revealing long, well shaped legs in what looked to me like stockings and heels designed to make her dwarf everyone. Her breasts were firm and large and, I guessed, unfettered.
‘I do my best for you, Debs.’ Inhibitions didn’t seem to be the order of the evening.
‘Quite right too. Well now we are four so get the lovely Vicks and her current squeeze a drink. We’re doing Margaritas. Jug full of the stuff and we’re on our third so you’d best catch up. Pol’s cooking is dreadful so you’ll need to drink your way through the pain.’
I liked Polly. She was fun, good to look at and clearly not overawed by Deb’s or Vicky’s wealth. It turned out she had been to a school like mine and that her parents had wanted her to follow her Dad into the law.
‘But I told him, fuck that. A, I haven’t got the brains and B, it’s the most boring thing in the world. I chose hairdressing because men and women need their hair doing so it was a way to meet both. I met my husband when I was working for a tv company and he was doing voice overs. He’s absolutely gorgeous...’
‘But tends to the men, no?’ Debra interjected.
‘He does lean that way, its true. Like so many actors he kicks with both feet. Which, in view of my own complexities, isn’t altogether a bad thing. He’s filming in Jakarta this week. Some minor part in a film and probably his main part up the lead’s arse.’
It doesn’t sound funny written down, but the mix of Margarita, beauty and, on my part at least, nervousness made it seem so at the time.
Dinner was actually excellent. The starter was smoked salmon with crème fraiche and caviar (fake). The main course a simple roast of pork with wonderfully crisp and light crackling, apple sauce and thick cider gravy and a mix of vegetables. Apple tart and ice cream followed the cheese in the continental way.
The conversation was good. Debra proved to have an earthy sense of humour as might be expected but she was quick, clever and witty. Like Vicky, she could always find the elegant riposte, the one I always think of a week after the conversation has ended.
I sat next to Debra and facing Polly. Vicky mentioned my riding accident a few weeks before Burns Night.
I asked Polly what her husband was filming and she explained it was a relatively low budget movie in which he played the part of a detective. By no means the lead role.
‘Pols likes someone to take the lead role, don’t you darling?’
‘Well,’ said Vicky, ‘she’s met the right woman for that.’
Debra turned to me. ‘And have you met the right woman to hold your reins?’
‘I rather think I have, yes.’
‘She’s in love with me, darling,’ said Vicky, smiling at me.
‘Oh, well, of course she is. Everyone’s in love with you, Vicks.’
‘Ah, but you’re the good time that’s been had by all, Debs.’
‘I’m the best time that’s been had by all! Pols is finding that out aren’t you?’ Polly nodded. ‘Why don’t you show Vicky how agile your lovely little tongue is? Let’s have a tongue race, Vicks. We haven’t done that for simply ages.’
My eyes were locked on Vicky.
She smiled at me and said, ‘I think that’s a bloody good idea. Ever played, darling?’
She was asking me.
‘I have no idea what it is.’
Debs and Vicky turned in their seat, almost as one so that each was facing the woman seated next to them. I watched, aghast, as Vicky pulled up her skirt and realised Debra was doing the same thing.
‘Tongues only,’ said Debra, pulling her knickers aside. ‘First one to reach the finishing post gets a prize, the loser gets a penalty.’
There was probably a plea in my eyes, but if there was Vicky ignored it. She smiled sweetly at me. ‘On your knees darling. Make me proud.’
I didn’t move. Vicky’s head did that thing she does when I am slow to obey. I barely noticed that Polly was already kneeling, her face close to Vicky between her parted knees. There was no need for Vicky to pull her knickers aside. She wasn’t wearing any. Her eyes hardened. I dropped to my knees and lowered my mouth to Debra’s pussy.
‘Wait, wait. We’re not under starter’s orders yet!’ I felt a restraining hand in my hair.
‘Everyone seated? Everyone steady?’ Debra sounded like the starter at a race meeting.
‘On my word,’ this was Vicky. ‘Start!’
Debra’s hand pulled my head tight against her. I knew I had no choice and suspected that Polly didn’t want one. I wasn’t too bothered about going down on Debra. It was the reward and penalty that bothered me.
I set to with a will. I let my tongue work as I know Vicky likes it to. I hoped Debra would react in a similar way. I knew both she and Vicky would be doing their best to ensure her sub won the race, which meant resisting all the subs’ efforts. I knew how self-controlled Vicky could be but not Debra. Debra was wet and her lips puffed as I started. I spread them with my tongue and licked, lapped and twirled. I swirled my tongue over her clit, over her pee hole and into her. I discovered that it was her pee hole that seemed to elicit the most movement and felt that might be her weakness so concentrated there, slithering away to the other parts frequently. I tried from then on not to think of Vicky but to concentrate on Debra.
Debra’s legs suddenly clamped to my ears. I was almost lifted by the head as she emitted a growl of pleasure and I felt her flood onto me. She held me there as I cleaned her.
I got back up onto my seat and was disappointed to see Polly sitting, drinking wine and in earnest conversation with Vicky. Debra laughed. Vicky turned her face slowly to me.
‘Hello, slow coach. Come up for air, have you? God, the coffee’s gone cold. Took your bloody time. Debs nearly feel asleep!’
Polly laughed. ‘You’re so unkind. Debra was struggling not to cum, weren’t you?’
‘Well, one had to use one’s willpower. I was surprised at you though Vicks. I thought you gave in rather too easily. Bit like a jockey pulling his mount I thought.’
Had I but known, all of this had been pre-arranged. Not the outcome of the race, that had been, so far as I could tell, fair. But it became obvious that Vicky and Debra had agreed terms.
‘Now then, Vicks darling, time for my prize I think?’
Vicky stood and walked around the table. She put her arms around me and leant to speak softly into my ear.
‘Go with Debs.’ Then she whispered very, very quietly, ‘Trust me.’
Lifting my hand she placed it into Debra’s. We stood and she led me out of the dining room in to the hall and up the stairs. The winding staircase led to a dimly lit landing and she led me along it to a closed door. Opened, the door revealed a large bedroom, with a huge bed dominating the room. My heart was pounding.
‘Take off that pretty dress, sweety.’ I reluctantly removed it. Her eyes never left mine.
‘You’re a good girl. Vicky has obviously done a good job on you.’
There was a real hunger in her now. She moved in close and kissed my mouth and I responded more out of fear than anything else. Her hand cupped my arse.
Breaking the kiss she said, ‘Go to the drawer and bring my strappy and a cane please, darling.’
Dragging myself mentally and only because I did not want Vicky’s wrath I went to the drawer at which she had pointed. It opened smoothly and there, laid out on a velvet cloth was a variety of sex toys. I selected a blue, slender strapon and a nasty, thin and vicious looking cane. I took them to her, her face a picture of lust. Slowly, she removed her dress then told me to take her panties off with my teeth,
‘Not the first time you’ve been there this evening, darling.’
I dropped to my knees and pulled them down with my teeth. It may look easy in porn films but it’s an acquired skill!
‘Now, strap me in, please. Put the little end in me, mmm, yes, perfect. Now tighten up. Good, now, get on the bed, face down and arse up.’
I assumed the position as instructed and could already feel wet in the corner of my eyes. I turned my face to one side, gripped the sheets and waited. And waited. The bed dipped, and I felt the end of the strapon at my lips. I groaned, not out of pleasure although it might have sounded like it. It didn’t enter me, but her body curled over me. I closed my eyes.
‘You are so very, very special.’
My eyes opened and I tried to turn. It was Vicky’s voice, not Debra’s. My heart lifted and she pushed into me, her mouth at my ear. She muttered obscenities as she curled her arms under me and gripped my nipples. The bed dipped gain and I felt a body beside me. Turning my head there lay Polly on her back, quite naked with Debra on top of her resting on her hands beside her head and mounting her.
‘Enjoy, darling,’ said Debra as she began to fuck Polly really hard. ‘While you can that is. I get to see you caned soon. Pity I cant do it myself but hey ho. Do it while I’m fucking Pols, Vicks. I want my prize while I cum.’
A hand gripped mine, it was Polly’s and we loked at each other. She knew I was going to get it and it was a handhold of sympathy.
Vicky was taking her time. She lay across my back and fucked me gently, each stroke of her strapon almost leaving me then pushing easily back in. The string of obscenities continued and I knew she was close. She was being so gentle that I knew it was going to be bad.
Her sudden withdrawal heralded the pain I was about to suffer. Her hand was in my hair, pushing my face down into the soft pillow.
‘A fair contest, Debs.’
This was followed by a searing blow and I knew that it was that wicked little cane I had handed to Debra. The second seemed to sting the same line again as did the third. I heard Debra gasping, grunting.
The fourth was lower, near the crease at the bottom of my buttocks and I should have cried out had the pillow not prevented me. It was impossible to keep counting. Polly’s grip on my hand tightened with each stroke.
‘Last one, Debs. So you’d better let it go or miss your chance.’
There was a dreadful delay. I knew it was coming but I could not know when. The bed bounced under Debra and Polly.
‘Now, for fuck’s sake, now, do it now.’ Debra’s voice was a plea.
It seared across my arse. I arched my back and screamed. My scream was echoed by Debra’s exultant scream of orgasm.
Later, much later, we four lay on that huge bed, Vicky holding me felt so good, so rewarding.
She had fucked me again, my burning arse on the cooling sheets and she above me, her eyes gleaming with, with what? Pride I hoped, pleasure I hoped more. She had closed her eyes at the moment. It was one of her quiet orgasms, one that she keeps inside herself and I can almost see her holding it, savouring it as she stays quite still, buried deep inside me.
Morning came.
Polly lay on her side beside me, her back to me and snoring quietly. There were stripes across her back; not whip or cane marks but fingernail scratches. Of Vicky and Debra there was no sign. I got out of bed, found a robe hanging on the back of the door and put it on. I looked in other rooms on that floor but did not find Vicky but then I heard a loud Debra laugh from downstairs and followed the noise down the stairs and to the kitchen. There sat the two of them, both in robes and drinking coffee.
‘Ah,’ said Debra. ‘Enter, stage left, the first victim.’
Vicky stood and came to me and held me. It was the most loving of gestures.
Vicky had, as usual, chosen what I was to wear. She always liked me in blue and she chose a dress, knee length, that didn’t allow for a bra. The top was low-backed and loose so that if I was careless my boobs were almost but not quite exposed. The skirt was ragged bottomed and full. Stockings, suspenders and transparent silk knickers were all the underwear she had selected.
For herself, Vicky had donned a long leather skirt in mid brown with her wonderful chestnut ankle boots. Above that she wore a white silk blouse that was tight enough to reveal she was wearing a bra, a bra that was not thick enough to hide her beautiful nipples completely.
‘Pour us a drink, darling. I feel like a g and t this evening.’ Dutifully I poured two drinks, ensuring to pour the Hendricks gin over ice and cucumber as she liked it. I took it to her as she stood looking out over the garden through the large French windows. It was late spring by then, the evenings getting longer, some cherry blossom visible and blackthorn growing in the hedge. It was impossible to resist the urge to touch her as I handed her the drink so I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. She smiled and her hand went straight into the top of my dress and cupped my tit. She squeezed my nipple, not hard.
‘You do look good in blue.’
‘You look good in anything.’
Her lovely eyes smiled. ‘Flatterer. Cheers.’ She took a sip of her gin. ‘Debra will be strangling a chicken about now I expect. She hates cooking so its possible she’ll have invited one of her “servants” to do the honours.’
‘Does she have many?’
‘Simply dozens. She treats them all like shit but she’s such a champion in the sack that they can’t get enough of her. Men, women, they are all the same. She was telling me on the ‘phone that she’d recently discovered that her hairdresser is of the “dyke persuasion,” as she so delicately put it. Reckons she’ll never have to pay to have her hair done again. You looking forward to this evening?’ Her eyes explored mine as she asked.
Now, there was the question. I was never sure if she talked about Debra simply to make me nervous. She loved mind fucking me almost as much as the other sort.
‘I always enjoy going out with you.’ A diplomatic answer I thought.
Nothing got past Vicky’s quick mind. ‘That wasn’t quite the answer to the question I asked was it?”
‘No, Miss.’
‘No, it wasn’t the answer, or no, Miss, I’m not looking forward to this evening?’
‘Both to tell the honest truth.’
She turned and touched my face. ‘You’ll be fine. I’ve told you before.’ She kissed me then, firmly.
‘Come on, whimp. Let’s get to Deb’s before the chicken is ruined and see what happens.’
Vicky has the countrywoman’s scorn for drink driving laws. When you live deep in the country the chances of the Police stopping you are almost nil. So we got into the Landrover, her weapon of choice for drunk driving, and we bumped and banged our way out of the farmhouse grounds onto the road that led to Debra’s estate. She, like so many of Vicky’s friends, was ‘landed.’ Her aged husband had been the source of her wealth and he had, as she predicted at Burns Night, dropped off his perch in the February. This left Debra a widow, wealthy, with a huge estate and not by any means an unmerry one at that.
At the funeral she had said to me, ‘The old bugger went to eternity with a smile. I saw to that. Black suits you, darling. If Vicky will let you stay after the wake I’ll fuck you if you like. No point in hanging around weeping. Last thing he’d have wanted or expected.’
I mean!
The drive to her house, a pile of stone and thatch somewhat larger than Vicky’s, was rutted and spoke of generations of farming. We finally got there and I had been hoping we’d lose a tyre or experience some other breakdown but it was not to be. The last of the spring day's sunshine was weak and cast a mellow glow over everything.
‘I wish she’d get that drive repaired,’ said Vicky as we got out of the Landrover. ‘Makes me need a pee. Probably why she doesn’t.’
The front door was open and Vicky banged on the inner door which was opened by the grieving widow, wearing black.
‘Still in mourning, Debs?’
‘Don’t be so fucking silly. I just look sexier in black.’ She kissed Vicky full on the lips and then did the same to me. Her hand accidentally (or not) slipped over my breast as she did so. ‘Lovely!’
‘Debs, keep your hands off my tart. You’ll get chicken fat on her nice dress.’
‘Not chicken tonight. We slaughtered a pig. Much more fun. Come on in, there is someone I want you to meet. She’s called Polly.’
‘The barber?’
‘Hairdresser and very particular about it. Married, of course, but left the baggage at home so she could spend a debauched night with Aunty Debra. Absolute corker in the sheets, aren’t you Pols?’
Polly was standing in the room we had entered as Debra had been saying this. Willowy, stunningly pretty, tall and slim. Her dress was a mix of spring flower colours, almost knee length and revealing long, well shaped legs in what looked to me like stockings and heels designed to make her dwarf everyone. Her breasts were firm and large and, I guessed, unfettered.
‘I do my best for you, Debs.’ Inhibitions didn’t seem to be the order of the evening.
‘Quite right too. Well now we are four so get the lovely Vicks and her current squeeze a drink. We’re doing Margaritas. Jug full of the stuff and we’re on our third so you’d best catch up. Pol’s cooking is dreadful so you’ll need to drink your way through the pain.’
I liked Polly. She was fun, good to look at and clearly not overawed by Deb’s or Vicky’s wealth. It turned out she had been to a school like mine and that her parents had wanted her to follow her Dad into the law.
‘But I told him, fuck that. A, I haven’t got the brains and B, it’s the most boring thing in the world. I chose hairdressing because men and women need their hair doing so it was a way to meet both. I met my husband when I was working for a tv company and he was doing voice overs. He’s absolutely gorgeous...’
‘But tends to the men, no?’ Debra interjected.
‘He does lean that way, its true. Like so many actors he kicks with both feet. Which, in view of my own complexities, isn’t altogether a bad thing. He’s filming in Jakarta this week. Some minor part in a film and probably his main part up the lead’s arse.’
It doesn’t sound funny written down, but the mix of Margarita, beauty and, on my part at least, nervousness made it seem so at the time.
Dinner was actually excellent. The starter was smoked salmon with crème fraiche and caviar (fake). The main course a simple roast of pork with wonderfully crisp and light crackling, apple sauce and thick cider gravy and a mix of vegetables. Apple tart and ice cream followed the cheese in the continental way.
The conversation was good. Debra proved to have an earthy sense of humour as might be expected but she was quick, clever and witty. Like Vicky, she could always find the elegant riposte, the one I always think of a week after the conversation has ended.
I sat next to Debra and facing Polly. Vicky mentioned my riding accident a few weeks before Burns Night.
I asked Polly what her husband was filming and she explained it was a relatively low budget movie in which he played the part of a detective. By no means the lead role.
‘Pols likes someone to take the lead role, don’t you darling?’
‘Well,’ said Vicky, ‘she’s met the right woman for that.’
Debra turned to me. ‘And have you met the right woman to hold your reins?’
‘I rather think I have, yes.’
‘She’s in love with me, darling,’ said Vicky, smiling at me.
‘Oh, well, of course she is. Everyone’s in love with you, Vicks.’
‘Ah, but you’re the good time that’s been had by all, Debs.’
‘I’m the best time that’s been had by all! Pols is finding that out aren’t you?’ Polly nodded. ‘Why don’t you show Vicky how agile your lovely little tongue is? Let’s have a tongue race, Vicks. We haven’t done that for simply ages.’
My eyes were locked on Vicky.
She smiled at me and said, ‘I think that’s a bloody good idea. Ever played, darling?’
She was asking me.
‘I have no idea what it is.’
Debs and Vicky turned in their seat, almost as one so that each was facing the woman seated next to them. I watched, aghast, as Vicky pulled up her skirt and realised Debra was doing the same thing.
‘Tongues only,’ said Debra, pulling her knickers aside. ‘First one to reach the finishing post gets a prize, the loser gets a penalty.’
There was probably a plea in my eyes, but if there was Vicky ignored it. She smiled sweetly at me. ‘On your knees darling. Make me proud.’
I didn’t move. Vicky’s head did that thing she does when I am slow to obey. I barely noticed that Polly was already kneeling, her face close to Vicky between her parted knees. There was no need for Vicky to pull her knickers aside. She wasn’t wearing any. Her eyes hardened. I dropped to my knees and lowered my mouth to Debra’s pussy.
‘Wait, wait. We’re not under starter’s orders yet!’ I felt a restraining hand in my hair.
‘Everyone seated? Everyone steady?’ Debra sounded like the starter at a race meeting.
‘On my word,’ this was Vicky. ‘Start!’
Debra’s hand pulled my head tight against her. I knew I had no choice and suspected that Polly didn’t want one. I wasn’t too bothered about going down on Debra. It was the reward and penalty that bothered me.
I set to with a will. I let my tongue work as I know Vicky likes it to. I hoped Debra would react in a similar way. I knew both she and Vicky would be doing their best to ensure her sub won the race, which meant resisting all the subs’ efforts. I knew how self-controlled Vicky could be but not Debra. Debra was wet and her lips puffed as I started. I spread them with my tongue and licked, lapped and twirled. I swirled my tongue over her clit, over her pee hole and into her. I discovered that it was her pee hole that seemed to elicit the most movement and felt that might be her weakness so concentrated there, slithering away to the other parts frequently. I tried from then on not to think of Vicky but to concentrate on Debra.
Debra’s legs suddenly clamped to my ears. I was almost lifted by the head as she emitted a growl of pleasure and I felt her flood onto me. She held me there as I cleaned her.
I got back up onto my seat and was disappointed to see Polly sitting, drinking wine and in earnest conversation with Vicky. Debra laughed. Vicky turned her face slowly to me.
‘Hello, slow coach. Come up for air, have you? God, the coffee’s gone cold. Took your bloody time. Debs nearly feel asleep!’
Polly laughed. ‘You’re so unkind. Debra was struggling not to cum, weren’t you?’
‘Well, one had to use one’s willpower. I was surprised at you though Vicks. I thought you gave in rather too easily. Bit like a jockey pulling his mount I thought.’
Had I but known, all of this had been pre-arranged. Not the outcome of the race, that had been, so far as I could tell, fair. But it became obvious that Vicky and Debra had agreed terms.
‘Now then, Vicks darling, time for my prize I think?’
Vicky stood and walked around the table. She put her arms around me and leant to speak softly into my ear.
‘Go with Debs.’ Then she whispered very, very quietly, ‘Trust me.’
Lifting my hand she placed it into Debra’s. We stood and she led me out of the dining room in to the hall and up the stairs. The winding staircase led to a dimly lit landing and she led me along it to a closed door. Opened, the door revealed a large bedroom, with a huge bed dominating the room. My heart was pounding.
‘Take off that pretty dress, sweety.’ I reluctantly removed it. Her eyes never left mine.
‘You’re a good girl. Vicky has obviously done a good job on you.’
There was a real hunger in her now. She moved in close and kissed my mouth and I responded more out of fear than anything else. Her hand cupped my arse.
Breaking the kiss she said, ‘Go to the drawer and bring my strappy and a cane please, darling.’
Dragging myself mentally and only because I did not want Vicky’s wrath I went to the drawer at which she had pointed. It opened smoothly and there, laid out on a velvet cloth was a variety of sex toys. I selected a blue, slender strapon and a nasty, thin and vicious looking cane. I took them to her, her face a picture of lust. Slowly, she removed her dress then told me to take her panties off with my teeth,
‘Not the first time you’ve been there this evening, darling.’
I dropped to my knees and pulled them down with my teeth. It may look easy in porn films but it’s an acquired skill!
‘Now, strap me in, please. Put the little end in me, mmm, yes, perfect. Now tighten up. Good, now, get on the bed, face down and arse up.’
I assumed the position as instructed and could already feel wet in the corner of my eyes. I turned my face to one side, gripped the sheets and waited. And waited. The bed dipped, and I felt the end of the strapon at my lips. I groaned, not out of pleasure although it might have sounded like it. It didn’t enter me, but her body curled over me. I closed my eyes.
‘You are so very, very special.’
My eyes opened and I tried to turn. It was Vicky’s voice, not Debra’s. My heart lifted and she pushed into me, her mouth at my ear. She muttered obscenities as she curled her arms under me and gripped my nipples. The bed dipped gain and I felt a body beside me. Turning my head there lay Polly on her back, quite naked with Debra on top of her resting on her hands beside her head and mounting her.
‘Enjoy, darling,’ said Debra as she began to fuck Polly really hard. ‘While you can that is. I get to see you caned soon. Pity I cant do it myself but hey ho. Do it while I’m fucking Pols, Vicks. I want my prize while I cum.’
A hand gripped mine, it was Polly’s and we loked at each other. She knew I was going to get it and it was a handhold of sympathy.
Vicky was taking her time. She lay across my back and fucked me gently, each stroke of her strapon almost leaving me then pushing easily back in. The string of obscenities continued and I knew she was close. She was being so gentle that I knew it was going to be bad.
Her sudden withdrawal heralded the pain I was about to suffer. Her hand was in my hair, pushing my face down into the soft pillow.
‘A fair contest, Debs.’
This was followed by a searing blow and I knew that it was that wicked little cane I had handed to Debra. The second seemed to sting the same line again as did the third. I heard Debra gasping, grunting.
The fourth was lower, near the crease at the bottom of my buttocks and I should have cried out had the pillow not prevented me. It was impossible to keep counting. Polly’s grip on my hand tightened with each stroke.
‘Last one, Debs. So you’d better let it go or miss your chance.’
There was a dreadful delay. I knew it was coming but I could not know when. The bed bounced under Debra and Polly.
‘Now, for fuck’s sake, now, do it now.’ Debra’s voice was a plea.
It seared across my arse. I arched my back and screamed. My scream was echoed by Debra’s exultant scream of orgasm.
Later, much later, we four lay on that huge bed, Vicky holding me felt so good, so rewarding.
She had fucked me again, my burning arse on the cooling sheets and she above me, her eyes gleaming with, with what? Pride I hoped, pleasure I hoped more. She had closed her eyes at the moment. It was one of her quiet orgasms, one that she keeps inside herself and I can almost see her holding it, savouring it as she stays quite still, buried deep inside me.
Morning came.
Polly lay on her side beside me, her back to me and snoring quietly. There were stripes across her back; not whip or cane marks but fingernail scratches. Of Vicky and Debra there was no sign. I got out of bed, found a robe hanging on the back of the door and put it on. I looked in other rooms on that floor but did not find Vicky but then I heard a loud Debra laugh from downstairs and followed the noise down the stairs and to the kitchen. There sat the two of them, both in robes and drinking coffee.
‘Ah,’ said Debra. ‘Enter, stage left, the first victim.’
Vicky stood and came to me and held me. It was the most loving of gestures.
Mara
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- Category:
- Lesbian
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