Chapter 50

“How are you, Charlotte?”

“I’m alright, Master. It’s just. I…” She ducks her head and falls silent.

Close to, her perfume is strong.

“Very well. I’ve asked your mother to look after Cara and Adam this evening. You may return to your
work for now. I believe you’re working on some catch-up for your university course?”

She nods, swallows and almost waddles back into her study.

“What was that all about?” Michael follows her with his eyes, brow creasing. “She’s walking a little
oddly, don’t you think?”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Oh?”

“She’s wearing Richard’s gift…” Michael’s smile dawns then broadens… “It will be removed for her
later.” I cock a brow to him. “I assume you have no objection to an evening’s entertainment
downstairs?”

He grins, rubbing his hands together. “Bring it on. Beth and Richard too?”

“Oh, yes. And so that you know, Charlotte has an instruction that she is not to remove the plug or to…
relieve… herself during the day. I told her I would be monitoring to see it was still in place.”

“Did you mention me?”

“No, I didn’t. So she won’t expect you to check, will she?”



He gives me a winner-of-the-toffee-apple smile and strolls after her.

I call after him. “Don’t do anything dramatic. We want her on the boil this evening.”

He keeps walking, but raises a hand, calling back over his shoulder. ”Ahead of you…”

*****

We make our way downstairs, Charlotte leading the way. Beth is on Michael’s arm behind her. Richard
and I bring up the rear.

“Mitch okay?” murmurs Richard, his lips not moving.

“She’s fine. I left her with the babies, surrounded by sketches of wedding dresses. Apparently, nothing’s
been good enough so far.”

“I’d have thought Kirstie had the ideal figure for a designer to hang a dress on?”

“Me too, but so long as she’s working, she’s happy.”

He nods to Charlotte, walking as though she’s on hinges. “How’s she doing?”

“Judging by what Michael told me an hour back, she’s suffering from foreshocks and prone to a Richter
seven or eight event at the slightest provocation.”

“I trust he didn’t provide the provocation?”

“Not at all. He enjoys edging as much as anyone. He felt up her skirt to check the plug was in place
and left her panting.”

“And he still believes he’s not a Dom?”



“That’s what he seems to think.”

*****

She crouches before me: head bowed, her palms flat to the floor: naked, submissive, quivering.
Richard stands off to one side for the moment. Michael takes his accustomed place by Beth.

Although I permitted Charlotte to bathe before we came down, I did not allow her to remove the plug.
The green gem glints bronze in the candlelight.

Despite the bath, she’s slick with her own juices: a gleaming trickle down thighs and knees and calves.
Her vulva is brilliant red, swollen and shiny.

I chose a flogger for the evening, my usual toy of choice, but made a point of selecting one with
unusually long, fine tresses. In the softest of suede, they ripple more like silk than leather.

The leather-bound handle cradled in my palm, I allow the tips of the tresses to brush over Charlotte’s
distended labia. She shudders and groans. “Oh, God…”

“You were not invited to speak, Charlotte. You are here to obey.”

*****

 

Charlotte

My Master behind me, he rested his cheek against mine, laid his hands on my shoulders. “Knees,” he
whispered.

It sounded like a command. Nonetheless, he held my arm, balancing me as I dropped, first to my
knees, then all the way, to crouch at his feet, and Richard’s too; face downward, my hands



outstretched, palms to the floor.

It’s not cold or painful. Protecting me from the hard stone flags of the basement, the matting indents
slightly at knee and toe and elbow. I crouch at my Master’s feet, submissive as he wishes…

Something kisses my aching sex, and I shudder.

I gave myself to him long ago.

And he gave Michael to me. And now Richard too.

It’s a heady mix.

From above me; a silken rustle; my hair is brushed to one side. But I am not invited to move. No
assisting hand raises me to my feet.

I wait…

The rustle of fabric and the creak of his shoes as my Master shifts on his feet…

The scent of new leather and the tang of polish…

The fragrance of clean fabric. A hint of spice; some soap or body-wash perhaps…

My Master’s murmured voice. “Good girl. Wait there.”

The clip of leather on stone, first close to me, then receding, then returning once more…

…

…

The intensifying cadence of my breathing…



The strengthening beat of my heart…

… and the growing clamour of the pulse inside my head…

The liquid heat at my core…

The filled-ness at my rear where the plug has teased me for hours with its promises of what is to
come…

….

…

The brush of soft leather over me…

… A delicate caress, kissing my spine…

The shiver that runs over my skin…

… A frisson that shivers through the length of me, catching the sound in my throat….

“You feel that, Charlotte?”

“Yes, Master.”

“What do you think it is?”

“One of your floggers, Master.”

“Yes. Today, you will fly.” The feather-touch traces over my spine again.

Who needs wings?



Something brushes by my cheek: velvety soft leather, flicking by. “Kneel up, Charlotte.”

I rise, face-to-groin with my Master. Beyond them, Michael, my Bright Angel, sits with Beth, cradling her
on his lap. Beside them, Richard.

Richard stoops to cup Beth’s cheek. “You’re sure, my Love, that this is enough for you?”

My cousin chews at a lip. “The tears are still a bit sore. But it won’t be long now. Is… Is that alright?

He stoops, presses his lips to hers. “Of course it is. You enjoy yourself.” He exchanges nods with
Michael, then returns to stand by my Master.

As I expected, in one hand my Master holds the flogger, the tails swishing free. It’s not one I’ve seen
before. The shaft is smooth, polished timber, the grain curling golden. In the other hand, he holds cuffs.
Perhaps he bought them as a set. The leather of both falls and cuffs, scented of honey and bees, is
velvet-dark as the pelt of some great black cat, drinking in the light.

He passes the flogger to Richard, then strokes one of the cuffs against my cheek. The fur-lined leather
is cool on my skin, flexing against my flesh, supple and smooth. My breath catches and Richard,
looking down at me, inclines his head slightly, eyes creasing.

My Master, lips curving, turns the strap over, stroking the fur over my forehead, then my cheek and
chin. The buckle catches against my lip, a touch of chill against the warmth of his almost-smile.

“Forget everything,” he murmurs. “Forget everything except how this feels: What you are going to feel.
You have nothing to worry about. All is well…”

“Cara…”

“… is with your mother. Adam too. Now, relax. Calm yourself. Yes?”



I drop my head, leaning into his hand, kissing the fingers, a little awkwardly around the cuff. “Yes,
Master.”

He stoops to kiss me, softly, brushing his lips over mine. “That’s better. Now, there are more here than
just you and I. Beth loves her husband and would like to see that you are servicing him appropriately.
You are his now.”

My Master steps away, letting Richard move closer. Pushing my chin up with paired fingers, he meets
me with his blue-eyed gaze. “You’re happy with this, Charlotte?”

“Of course I am, Sir. It’s a pleasure.”

He smiles, his teeth very white even though, winter barely over, his tan is all but gone. So close now,
the warm musk of his body washes over me and I inhale deeply; his scent; musky, spicy, masculine;
the faint ‘just laundered’ scent of his clothes.

The swell of his erection presses through his pants. Leaning forward just a little, a hand resting either
side of his hips, I press my lips to him, kissing the bulge. Rolling my eyes upward, I see his head drop
back, mouth opening as, briefly, he raises his face to the ceiling.

He drops a palm to my cheek, caressing my face and, lips wide, I mouth at him over his trousers.
Moving slowly and deliberately, he unravels his belt, slips open the button at his waist, slides down the
zipper. Then he stands, waiting.

I reach inside, past soft fabric to warm skin, the wiry fuzz of hair, the velvet and steel of his waiting
erection. As I slide fingers around his length, Richard slips hands around the back of my head and into
my hair. He’s not quite pulling me in, but he holds me close.

My Master shifts to stand behind me, trailing the falls of the flogger over my shoulders as I free
Richard’s shaft. Where he is already seeping, a dewy trail shines from the slit. Kissing away the



dewdrop, I wrap my lips over the head. As I suck, from above comes the exhalation of air, and the
hands draw me in closer.

Keeping my touch soft, I probe with my tongue into the ridge of the crown, tracing his outline, tasting
him, swiping over the trickle of precum, then sucking away the viscous thread that clings to my lips.
Ringing his shaft at the base with thumb and forefinger, squeezing a little, he hardens, the head
swelling in my mouth as I suck and lick and lap.

Supporting his swollen cock with one hand, with the other, reaching inside once more, I cup him.
Between his thighs, it’s warm, almost humid, but I enjoy the soft and yielding skin, the faint scratch of
coarser hairs on my skin, the hard kernels; shifting them in my palm as, with the tips of my fingers, I
press into his groin, massaging the root of his penis.

“Fuck…” Richard hisses, abruptly releasing me, stretching upright to clasp fingers behind his head.

From behind, the rustling and scraping of movement. Richard’s fingers are replaced by my Master’s,
knotting into my hair, tight; controlling me, steering me back and forth. “You have to try harder than that,
Charlotte. I think months of freedom while you were pregnant have taken the edge off your
performance. You’re out of practice.”

Above me, Richard huffs…

Releasing me, my Master stoops, hooking hands under my arms, lifting; spinning me as he hauls me to
my feet. “Let’s see if we can improve matters.”

He holds me close, but not so close that he can’t look down into my face. Tall and straight he stands
before me, his fingers tangling into my hair again, screwing tight enough to tug at my scalp. Then
leaning in, he reels me in, kissing me; an open-mouthed penetration of body and soul.



The hardness of my Master’s chest and ribs pushing against me, his body heat permeates through his
shirt to my naked skin, his heart pumps against my breasts. The hardness at his groin too, presses at
my loins as I accept him, returning the kiss, linking my hands around his neck, letting him take me.

Still gripping my hair, he pulls back, again locking my face with his. “A little better.”

He eye-points, and I follow his gaze across to where a spreader-bar hangs, a carabiner dangling at
each end. Arm outheld, he invites me to take my place.

Obediently, I do so, then without waiting for the instruction, offer up my wrists.

From his place with Beth, Michael speaks up. “I did suggest, Charlotte, that the Saint Andrew’s cross
might make a change. But James and Richard agreed that it’s easier for the two of them to work you
from either side.

The smile that doesn’t touch my Master’s lips, nonetheless dances in his eyes. “Quite right. Richard
and I both wish to be able to enjoy the results of our efforts.” But his pants are straining. I think he’s
already enjoying himself.

He buckles the cuffs to me, drawing the steel tongue to a perforation in the leather, then more tightly to
the next. “Comfortable? Not too tight?”

“No, Master. They’re fine.”

He jerks his chin up and I raise my arms. He snaps one cuff to a carabiner, Richard the other, then
together they turn me to face Beth.

Michael kisses her forehead. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He walks somewhere off-side, but my peripheral vision picks up the rhythmic movement as he winds
the supporting chain higher, and with an oiled squeak from the gears, my hands are raised, my arms



ratcheted taut. “That enough?”

“A little more, I think,” says Richard. “I always feel that a good sub appreciates a little strain.”

The chain clinks tighter and I’m tugged upward, my weight now only just on my feet. The gears Clunk,
locking into position. My waist and thighs are pulled taut, my heavy breasts lifted by my upstretched
position.

Richard plucks at my nipples. “You look good, Charlotte, but of course, just now, these belong to Cara,
don’t they. I’ll look forward to being able to enjoy full use of them again.”

He continues his journey, his palms flat, tight over the line of my waist and hip, outlining my silhouette
with his hands. Brushing over my ass, he nudges at the plug, sending electricity tap-dancing to my clit.

Moving to my thighs, he pauses. At my feet, my Master is cuffing my left ankle. He passes the other
cuff to Richard.

Off to the right, Michael is looping chain through a wall hoop. This too, he passes to Richard who clips
the cuff around my ankle, the chain to the cuff.

My Master repeats this to my right. “Tension her up, Michael.” He draws the chain to my right; Michael
the one to my left, and my ankles are eased apart, my thighs opened, my sex exposed. They leave me
a little movement. I can’t close my ankles, but I could widen them, except that I’m already teetering.

Michael stands, saunters close, resting his hands either side of my face, “Alright, Babe?”

“I’m fine.”

I’m better than fine. I’m warm inside; streaming and swelling. But the plug is driving me wild…

I want to be filled…



Really filled…

By a man…

By men…

Michael snuffs. “So you are.” Still holding my face, he kisses me softly, brushes fingers over my lips,
then returns to Beth. Looping an arm around her, he drops a hand to stroke her thighs.

Close by my face, my Master whispers, “Richard wants to taste you now. In a while, he will fuck you.
And so will I.” He steers my chin toward Michael, who grins. “Your Golden Lover too. And Beth will
watch.”

“Tonight,” adds Richard, “we will all share you.”

My pussy, already heating, shivers and clutches…

Your tongue…

Lapping through me…

Winding around me…

My clit throbs…

My heart is accelerating, obviously so as the flesh of my raised breasts bounces and vibrates to the
rhythm.

Richard stands close, very close. “Ankles wider, Charlotte. I gave you some latitude, but I expect you to
open for me.”



It’s not easy. I move my feet further apart, but I’m tottering. Richard nudges at my ankles with his
shoes, his breath sighing over me as my pussy trickles. “Wider, Charlotte.”

In the instant it takes me to obey, the tresses of the flogger flash across my buttocks, a sting that jolts
the plug and whips the air into my lungs, followed by another stroke that sets it gasping out again.

“Do as Richard instructs, Charlotte. You know what is expected of you here.”

“Yes, Master.” Shuffling to move, I widen my ankles further.

Richard taps my thigh. “That will do, Charlotte. Michael, raise her a little more, please. I’d like to feel the
tension in her muscles. Her weight on her feet but only just.”

“Coming right up.”

Michael leaves Beth for the half-minute it takes to grind the gears forward a notch, and irresistibly,
inexorably, my arms are drawn up at the wrists, leaving me teetering on the balls of my feet.

I’m quivering with tension, almost crucified. Muscles straining, I lose what’s left of my balance and my
weight drops onto my wrists before Richard snakes an arm around my waist to support me. “Perfect.
Tell me, Charlotte, do you enjoy having my wife watch while I fuck you?”

In my strained position, my breathing is tight and I’m fighting for the words. In the second or so before I
reply, leather tongues swipe behind my thighs again, biting in. Only a single stroke this time, but the
stripes glow hot…

Sitting down’s not going to be fun tomorrow…

But Pussy doesn’t care. Pussy pulses hot juices down my thighs.



“Well, Charlotte? Answer the question. Do you enjoy having Elizabeth watch while I enjoy the use of
your body?”

My mouth is hot and dry. My pussy is hot and wet. And swollen. And aching… “Yes, Sir. I do.”

From behind me, my Master’s voice. “What will you use, Richard?” Then again on the edge of my
peripheral vision, movement, as he strolls along his racks and shelves. His eyes dart to mine, then
away again. “Perhaps something with more bite?” He speaks as though musing to himself.

Moving to be more within my vision…

Deliberately?

For sure…

… he picks out a crop, brings it down on his palm with a Smack! then replaces it, before moving along
to pick out another item: a rubber paddle.

“In fact,” says Richard, “for this occasion, I brought my own piece.”

Face stern, but eyes twinkling, he strolls across to Beth. Her eyes are wide, pupils huge and black. She
dimples a smile at me as she passes something to him.

Richard accepts it and strolls back, offering it up to me for inspection. It’s another flogger: a lovely
piece, the handle bound in plaited red and black leather strands.

“Elizabeth gave me this,” he says, “for my birthday, before we were married.” He swishes the falls over
my breasts; a whispering movement that caresses my skin and sets Pussy twitching out another gush
of juices. “I think it is a fine measure of the depth of the friendship between you, that she should ask me
to use such a personal item...”



He ambles around me; a complete circuit, casually flicking at my skin. It doesn’t hurt. It’s barely hard
enough to feel it at all. But my senses are heightening, my skin is sensitising, and every contact sends
electricity streaking to my core.

Quivering in my chains, I groan.

Richard gives a small smile. “And since you have volunteered to stand in for Elizabeth while she
recovers from her pregnancy, I agreed…” He casts across to his heavily breathing wife… “… I believe
Elizabeth is looking forward to watching your response when I use her gift on you.”

With a twist of the wrist, he lashes across my breasts, still lightly, but then again, as my breath catches,
harder across my thighs, enough to warm. “You like that, Charlotte? I thought you would.” He repeats it,
on the other side, again, a touch more force, smarting a little.

He moves close, wraps an arm around my waist, pushes my chin up with the pommel of the flogger.
“I’m going to fuck you with this in a while, but…” He steps back… “… I think, a little for my own
pleasure first.”

He shoves the flogger into a pocket, drops to his knees and plants his palms to curve inside my thighs.
His face close to my loins, he inhales. “You smell wonderful, Charlotte. Your Master was right. We’re
both…” … He glances around the room… “… We’re all going to enjoy this…”

He inhales again, resting his forehead against my belly. Kneeling back, he looks at me, his hands
roaming, sliding down and around my thighs, then up and over my hips and waist and stomach.

He tangles fingers into my curls, musing. “Perhaps I should have Elizabeth present herself this way
too...” He plucks at hair already wet with my own juices. Pussy throbs. “…Then again, I enjoy the
variety. What do you think, Michael?”



Michael’s eyes crinkle. “Oh, I enjoy the variety too.” One arm slung around her shoulder, he gives Beth
a squeeze… “Sometimes smooth. Sometimes not.” The other arm, lower down, inside her robe, is
exploring Beth’s ‘smoothness’.

Richard quests further, slipping paired fingers between pussy lips already slick with my arousal. He
withdraws, then sucks the fingers. “I’m tempted, Charlotte, to have you lick me clean, but I think I’ll wait.
You can clean me up elsewhere in a while.” He glances up, his grin wicked.

To one side, my Master sucks in his cheeks. “You too, Richard? You’re going to be busy, Charlotte.”
Legs astride, arms folded, with the paddle loose in his hand, he’s putting on a casual front, but his
stance is uneasy as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

Abruptly, Richard slides hands behind me, grasping my buttocks, pushing the plug hard in and pulling
me in tight. Pressing into the vee of my thighs, he tongues at my clit, already heated and swollen. He
licks and laps and sucks and, flinging my head back, I groan. I want to buck and twist, but my
tensioned body can only tremble and shudder. And somehow, I’ve lost the power of speech, only a
gurgle rises from my throat.

Something moves behind me and Richard releases me. One hand moves to centre-forward position,
diving in and up, finger-fucking me as he swipes into me with his tongue. And behind, air swishes then
something slaps across my ass.

And I yell…

It’s no love kiss. My Master brought down the paddle hard and it hurt… the sting on my buttocks… the
press of the plug as the paddle jolts it into me…

But Richard pumps at me, his wrist rhythmically up and down inside me, his face presses in, tonguing
my clit…



Another stroke of the paddle…

And another…

Pussy is going into meltdown, my juices streaming hot down over Richards's hand and down between
my thighs. The heat of his mouth over my tortured-ecstatic clit… The pain… The rhapsody…

The buzzing in my ears…

I’m pulsing inside. Already primed, ready before we stepped into my Master’s pleasure room, my
climax is coming. And fast…

It rises, throbbing and pulsing, radiating out from my core and taking the rest of me with it.

If I could, I would fall… But I can’t…

Dangling from my wrists, my body twitching, my mouth screaming, my brain full of nothing but one
sensation piled on another…

The heat-pleasure-pain-sting-ecstasy all merge and surge and bloom, euphoria billowing through me in
a shuddering, shaking rhapsodic Rush…

“Red! Red! For God’s sake, Red!”

Instantly, Richard pulls away. But I’m still riding the tsunami, my body out of my control, still gripped by
my volcanic orgasm. Blind and deaf, to anything outside my own skin, I quiver and shiver my way back
to earth, drifting down through clouds and stars…

Eventually, I open my eyes. I’d not realised they were closed.

Richard and my Master are standing side-by-side, watching me as though they should be taking notes.
Michael, sitting by Beth, is laughing. Beth’s mouth hangs open.



Richard casts to my Master, “We can declare that a success then?”

In his voice thick as whipped cream, dark as chocolate and brimming with suppressed laughter, “Oh, I
think so.”

“So…” says Beth… “Which of you is going to fuck her now?” Mischief skitters over her lips.

Richard turns to his wife, brows arched. “I’d not realised, my Love, that you have such an unkind
streak. Your cousin may remember it when it comes to your turn.”

She looks down but does not appear greatly chastised.

“However…” says my Master, “it is a valid question. But I think we might give Charlotte the option, on
this occasion, of how she would like to be fucked?” He cocks an eye to me.

“Um… Would you mind if I lie down, Master?”

“Of course not.” He moves close to me. At wrist and ankle, Michael and Richard unbuckle cuffs. But my
Master curves an arm around my waist, presses his lips to mine, then teases my mouth open. The kiss
is slow and soft and long. As my wrists are freed, for a brief moment, I drop, but he’s holding me,
supporting me. And as my ankles too are released, he sweeps arms under me. Lifting me, he carries
me to the four-poster at the end of the room, laying me on the blankets.

I know my Master loves me. He often gives me his smile, shows me kindness, but it is seldom I see…

… tenderness.

He perches on the bed beside me, still fully dressed, his eyes soft. He traces the line of my cheekbone
with his fingers. “It’s good to have you back with us again.”

“I’ll always come back to you, Master. I promised you that a long time ago. It’s still true.”



His mouth curves and he draws the fingertips down my nose and over my lips. Then, without warning,
the Dom returns. “You have other duties now, Madam.” He half-turns, looking back. “Richard, I believe
your wife would like to see the rest of the show?”

Richard stands over me, unbuttoning his shirt as Michael accompanies Beth to a nearby armchair. She
pauses as Richard offers his wrists and she slips the links from the cuffs. Then she allows Michael to
guide her to the seat, where she sits, eyes sparkling, pupils wide, black-on-green.

As Richard, Michael and my Master all strip, I turn to her. “Richard’s right. I won’t forget you know.”

She chuckles. “I know. I’m nearly there now. You can wreak dreadful revenge on me next time.”

The men laugh with me as I reply. “Don’t think I won’t.” Then I lie back, stretch out my arms and arch
my hips. “Right, who’s first?”

My Master stands over me, his cock upright. “We’re not taking turns, Charlotte. You can handle us
together. Michael… Head or tail?”

My Golden Lover, his shaft at full mast, moves closer. “Head. I want a good view.”

“Fine. Charlotte…” My Master lies, naked and fully erect, on the bed… “… On all fours above me.”

Straddling him, I ease myself over him.

Am I up to this?

… but as his cockhead kisses my entrance, arousal, sharp and sweet, spears through me…

Another one?

… and at my inhalation, my Master’s smile is broad and white. Gripping my hips, he draws me down
over him, his penetration gradual and easy… then he holds… his gaze passing over my shoulder…



Behind me, movement: Richard, nudging between my ankles. Then, at my rear entrance a twist and a
pull… and abruptly, I am achingly empty….

Fill me…

Fill me again…

A squeezing sound, the probing of oily fingers and pressure…

I thought I was ready. After hours of obedience, of wearing the plug, being stretched wide, I thought I
was open.

But Richard, moving in, pressing in…

His stiff cock… Thick and hard… Opening me further… Stretching me…

I’m panting. My lungs heave. He pierces me…

My Master’s eyes hold mine. I see the question there. The same question I saw the first time I did this,
when Michael took ‘my other virginity’…

And I have the same answer. “I’m okay,” I say. “It’s alright.”

His mouth doesn’t smile, but his eyes do. His grip on my hips grows tighter.

Richard presses in; deeper, further, harder… Then he withdraws…

Again, he penetrates me. And again. The penetration turns to thrusting. With each stroke, he deepens
the contact, fathoming me…

Until, at last, his flesh fully inside mine, I feel him, his groin pressed hard to my body. One hand coils
into my hair. Another strokes my cheek. “Are you alright, Charlotte?”



“Yes, Sir. I’m fine.”

“Good.” The grip on my hair tightens. The hand twists, winding my hair more tightly, tugging at my
scalp, arching me backwards.

I’m streaming. My cunt pulses hot and fluid. I don’t doubt my Master can feel it, his flesh also sheathed
by mine. He moves… slowly… withdrawing, then thrusting. Withdrawing then thrusting.

Richard matches him, the two men moving in harmony. “Don’t try to move, Charlotte,” comes the voice
from behind me.

“No, Sir.”

Michael draws closer. I look up into his startling blue-eyed gaze. His cockhead, seeping briny dew,
brushes my lips. “Open up. Charlotte.”

Obediently, I part my lips. A tug on my hair steers my face to a more convenient position.

Against all expectation, against all reason, after my volcanic climax of only a few minutes ago, climax
rises inside me again; coiling and curling, full of promise.

Michael pushes his cock at my mouth, then pulls back a little. “Where d’you want it, Babe? Over your
tongue? Or over your face? Or both? Your call.”

I roll eyes upward. “Michael Summerford. I’ve said it before, but you’re a kinky bastard sometimes.”

“Really? That’s coming from the woman with a man at every entrance?” But he’s laughing… He looks
to Beth, nodding down to me… “She won’t answer, so you can. Where’s she getting it?”

Beth’s reply is instant. “Over her face. So I can watch. But she has to keep her mouth open.”



Michael raises eyes ceilingward. “And I’m supposed to be the kinky one…” But he slides thumb and
finger around his length. “You suck the head, Babe. And lick too. I want to see that tongue.”

I’m trying, but it’s not easy. Richard and my Master are building speed, building tempo, pumping me
harder. Ram-rodded, doubled-barrelled-style, my spine arched back, my lungs heave. Inside I’m
clutching and clenching. My clit throbs an SOS to my pussy, and Pussy takes no notice.

Richard is being careful, taking it easy, but now his slow strokes are mismatched to my Master’s who
bangs into me. Slamming upward, he spears me with every stroke, ramming me inside, colliding with
my inner walls.

My neck straining, Michael’s lovely cock filling my view, it’s not easy to look. But rolling eyes down, my
Master’s face is brilliantly red, streaming with sweat. His eyes wander between my swinging breasts
and my mouth.

A grunt…

Michael drops forward, one hand still stroking his erection, the other resting on my shoulder. Hot cum
spurts, splattering my face, splashing into my mouth. I reach, trying to take more, to drink him in, to lap
it up. Abruptly, the hold on my hair releases. Surging forward, I wrap my mouth around Michael’s
throbbing shaft, cream, hot and bitter-sweet, pulsing over my tongue.

Hands are grasping around me, clinging tight, clutching at my breasts. Behind me, Richard groans, his
hips grinding against mine. Below me, still thrusting, my Master meets my eyes, then looks sidelong at
Michael, over my shoulder then back to me.

His eyes squeeze closed. He bares his teeth, his head thrusting forward… “Fuck…”

Beside me, Michael pants and heaves, his forehead dripping. Beth stands beside him, running her
fingers through hair dark with sweat, looking from one man to the next and then to me…



And my own orgasm bursts loose.

For the second time in under an hour. I lose it. Eyes closed, teeth gritted, I rear upwards, my hands
thrashing as I wail triumph to the heavens.

Hands clasp mine, the fingers linking with my own. My core pulsates, sending waves of pleasure
rippling through thighs and belly and ripping the scream from my throat.

How am I screaming?

Am I breathing?

Still convulsing, I grip at the fingers locked with mine. “Oh, God…”

“Was it good?”

Dropping forward, hands catch me. A kiss to my lips. Another in the crook on my neck. From behind
and below, the fullness withdraws.

And finally, I open my eyes.

Michael is sitting on the bed beside me. “Okay, Babe?”

My heart drums a tattoo under my ribs. The pulse pounds behind my ears. “Er, yes… Just give me a
minute.”

But the fingers gripping mine aren’t Michael’s.

Beth blushes, disentangling her hands from mine. ”Um… I was worried about you there. Just for a
minute.” She retreats to her chair.

I sag.



One minute ago, I was high as a kite. Now, all I want to do is to sleep.

“Charlotte?” My Master… a touch of worry in his voice.

“I’m fine. I’m better than fine.” I swipe away the sweat where I’m dripping on him. “I’m just…”

“Exhausted?” suggests Richard.

“That’s the word.”

“Sounds good to me.” Michael strokes my neck. But I’m not fooled.

“How’s my pulse rate?”

“Coming down,” he smiles. “Now roll over and get under the sheets. This bed is big enough for five
when we’re all friends.”

*****


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