Borne by the night breeze, the rhythmic sound of rolling ocean waves came through the screened window. I sniffed the salt air happily and reveled in my good fortune. Or luxuriated, more accurately, considering the grandeur of the place, this beach-house that was more like a mansion. Talk about luxury! The off-season upkeep alone probably cost an astronomical pretty-penny.
Anyway, we were here at last – and among the early arrivals, I was glad to note, giving us a chance to get settled before the sapphic revels began. And in a way, I hoped, allowing me a short respite, a moment of introspection to organize my jumbled mind. I was still kind of breathless about Consolidated and my swift change in status. And even more breathless – awed, really – over the demonstration of raw power that had accomplished it. I had to believe her now: Julia Beresford was somebody in the company. I could love her in our lesbian bed and adore her in our mistress-and-slave orgies and respect her as my boss in business, but now there was a new word in the fine print of our unwritten contract. Or a newly revived word, rather. Fear. And it spilled over into everything else, of course, which was why my often irresponsible young mind had lost its carefree cool. All of a sudden I was a lesbian slave for real, a slave-girl in a house full of wealthy and no doubt willful lesbians. With fear to keep me in line!
Okay. I had faced that fact. Only why should I feel so excited about it? Sexually excited. The danger, the dire prospect of a week in this unknown and unpredictable situation, why should it be such a thrill? I had the sensation of teetering on the brink of a great chasm, off balance, weightless, suspended, needing only a nudge to send me hurtling into the dark depths below…
The bathroom noises snapped me back to reality. Julia was in there redoing her hair and makeup, getting ready to join our hostess and her welcoming committee downstairs. I just hoped she wasn't in too big a hurry. All that thinking about my sexually excited state of mind had generated a certain sexual excitement of a more immediate nature. A tongue like mine needed plenty of practice; how else would it ever become perfect?
"Rory? You're not dressed."
"I'm nekkid as a jaybird."
"Rascal. Licking your lips like that. For shame. Are you trying to tempt me?"
"Sure. How'm I doing?"
"Well…"
"Must be the salt in the air, kind of an aphrodisiac. Makes my tongue hang out. Precocious tongue. See?"
"Wicked, wicked. Oh, wicked!"
"That's because I've got no place to hide it. Like a nice big beautiful ass maybe, hmm? Mistress? Won't you take pity on your poor little underprivileged slave-girl?"
"Hot for my asshole again, eh? Hmm. I thought we'd save that for later. Bedtime. Our first night here. Tell you what, though, as long as you're so anxious…" Grinning, she reached under her tight skirt and foraged momentarily, getting a firm grip and stripping her panties off in a single swipe. Then, slowly, almost seductively now, she worked the reluctant hem up past the flare of her hips with a squirming motion, sidling over to set one foot on the rung of a chair. "There. Care for some cunt, baby?"
Baby cared. I was already sniffing the scent and sinking to my knees to pursue its trail to the source, pausing only for an appreciative peek at the vision of rosy red cunt-lips filtering through that lacy profusion of hair. Just a peek, though, and then the musky-moist flesh was soft against my face, a gentle softness, an aptly textured conclusion to the increasingly dense wake of her perfume. Even the raised leg and the uneven spread of her thighs seemed curiously compatible with the unique serenity of the moment, an unfamiliar posture to match the unfamiliar surroundings, all part of our first embrace in this ocean paradise.
Then, from somewhere within the house, a distant noise picked up volume and shattered the peace like the war-whoop of a tribe of savages. Indeed it sounded very much like that, a raiding party on horseback, only the voices became clearer now as the pounding footsteps left the stairs and approached through the hall. One voice in particular – our hostess, more than likely – clear enough to crystallize the blood in my veins:
"Julia! Where the hell are you? Carload of old friends just got in, all dying to say hello."
I knew what was going to happen. It took only a hint of pressure to quell any notion of revolt and reduce me to the lowest of lowly slaves. Crouched there, I sucked the cunt of my Goddess as she raised her voice to tell her friends to come in, the door was open, and then a moment later as the multitude trooped in behind my back, "Relax, everybody, we're almost finished here, just take it easy and give the little cuntlapper a chance, will you?"
An earthquake would have helped. Or even a hole in the floor for me to fall through. But I had to create my own miracle, steeling myself to bear up under the ordeal – this too shall pass! – and ignore the presence of my snickering audience. Only that was impossible, of course, and I found myself playing to them instead, turning their smug snickers to a paean of whispered approval as I groveled at the feet of my lesbian mistress and fucked her with my tongue, sucking and fucking her cunt to a peak of orgasm that astonished our lesbian audience and would have made her proud of her lesbian slave-girl, except that we were both off in that private world of ours by then, the world of indescribably exotic pleasures, and if that wasn't a pure-cream lesbian miracle, well…
Would she be wearing boots? Would I be expected to lick them? Oh, why did it have to be Adelaide? But that was obvious, of course, almost a foregone conclusion – making it with the hostess was like getting my feet wet. Anyway, orders were orders, and I had to obey without question. About time I got ready, too, my fresh young body was supposed to be naked for the skinny old bitch. I hated to move, though, still feeling kind of steamed up, the residue of that last embrace with my mistress. But the panties and bra had to go; naked meant naked…
Shuddering, I cast an apprehensive glance toward the door and peeled off the two pieces. I moved to the big full-length mirror and struck a pose, taking a preparatory check. Good thing, too; what if she had come in and seen me like this? A hair clung to the corner of my mouth, light-colored and crinkly, a cunt-hair picked up in that final farewell kiss. So precious! I let it hang there a moment, thrilled anew by the lurid vision – my youthful face, lips pink and quivery, tainted by that stigma of sin. What a delicious picture! Hmm. Portrait of a hot little lesbian?
Oh shit, yes, I was still hot, my shrewd mistress had deliberately left me in this state. Almost of its own volition, one hand glided over the curve of a chubby hip to seek out and soothe my throbbing clit-button. I gasped at the sudden sensation, my eyes slitted now, heavy with lust but still peering at the reflected image, the sexy cunt-hair still clinging…
"Admiring yourself, baby?" The voice stabbed at my back like a thrown dagger. "Such a vain little doll-baby…"
I yanked my caressing hand away and swung around, remembering only at the last instant to brush the left-over hair from my lip. Flushed with embarrassment, I stood there tremulous, shaken by the abruptly looming presence, so gaunt-cheeked, so darkly ominous.
"What the hell! What are you doing, sneaking a little taste of your own pussy?"
It must have looked like that, I realized, the way my hand had reached up to my mouth; how humiliating! But there wasn't much I could say about it, not without stammering blindly into a stupid and doubtless unnecessary explanation. There was no anger in that coolly appraising expression, just a hint of amusement.
"But don't let me stop you. Enjoy, enjoy. Go ahead and admire that pretty body in the mirror, anyway. Don't be bashful, kid, you've sure got something worth admiring."
The compliment took me by surprise, striking with a jolt of pure pleasure. Adelaide had shut the door and was coming toward me now, still gaunt but less foreboding somehow. No boots, thank heaven! Just slippers on her feet, fancy ones with small heels, rather cute. Her only other garment was a satiny sort of robe with a loosely tied cord around the waist, very short, ending just halfway down her thighs. She looked softer now, her bare legs surprisingly shapely, compensating for some of the harsh angularity above. Quite nice, in fact. Full of surprises tonight!
"I-I didn't hear you come in."
"That's because I'm sneaky. And the door was open. So I got an eyeful, huh? Especially with the mirror. View of your tits and ass at the same time. And you've got plenty of each."
"Oh…"
"Hey, you're shivering! Not cold, are you?"
"N-no. Just the opposite."
"Is that so? I'll just check and see." Her hand darted down swiftly, a pointed finger piercing my damp flesh with ease. "You're right. It's hot. Nice and hot and wet."
"Oooh!"
"Getting hotter, hmm?" She added more fingers, a wriggling wedge, all but burying her hand inside me. "There now, that should really heat your cunt up. How does it feel?"
"Hot… so hot…" Swaying limply, I sagged at the knees and let my stance widen, an instinctive spread to relieve the pressure and help accommodate the still active thrust. "Feels like more. Do it, do it! Frig me. My cunt, frig my cunt, my cunt…"
"Frig your cunt? You think that's what I'm doing? Oh no, this isn't meant to be a fingerfuck, you silly girl. It's only the beginning. You'll like it, though, don't worry, it's something you really go for. The taste of your own cunt. You do want to taste it, don't you? Here. A great big handful for you. Open up, open your mouth, lick it!"
The sudden emptiness turned to anguish. I stood there paralyzed, the glistening wet hand under my nose, poking at my lips. And then her bizarre demand registered in a surge of thickening excitement, stirring me to action. Overwhelmed by the sheer novelty of it, I nibbled at her fingertips and soon unclenched my jaws with a sob of acquiescence, licking and sucking the cunt-dipped fingers in eager self-subjugation, utterly humiliated and yet somehow grateful for the humiliation. But then, just as suddenly, her hand was gone and the contact broken, leaving my mouth still open, a gaping void, just as empty as my cunt.
"You want more? Forget it, you've had enough. Mustn't be selfish, sweetie." She patted her belly. "Or maybe you'd like to sample a scoop of this, huh?"
The pat became a self-caress, sliding downward. I watched it move slowly, the lewd assurance of the gesture holding me spellbound. An extended fingertip got there first, dividing the hairy black bush to reveal shiny scarlet cunt-lips underneath. I moaned, assailed by an acutely oppressive weakness – or was it a need? – that sapped my strength and sent me to my knees. Jaws still agape, I pleaded in silence then, lifting my arms to take a mute but hopefully eloquent posture of prayerful desire. I despised myself for succumbing so easily, but the woman was too wise, too worldly, too well-versed in lesbian guile; she had already demolished my will, reducing me to an extension of hers…
"No? Not just a sample? You'd rather drink it straight from the well, hmm?" Her laugh was without humor, abrasive. "Is that what you're begging for?"
"Yes. Please. Your cunt. Please?"
"Spoken like a true cuntlapper. Come on, then. Let's settle down and do it in comfort." Laughing again, a sound tinged with triumph now, she whirled and strode toward the bed, her meager but compactly muscular buttocks visible – seductively asway – as the robe came undone and floated to the floor. "We'll have a party, a nice cozy cunt-party, just the two of us."
I scrambled to my feet but never got quite erect, loping along all scrunched over as the haste of my forward momentum carried me across the room. Grotesque, perhaps, but certainly practical, getting me there fast and almost in position to begin sucking. And I would have, too, only she changed her mind and held me off, evidently impressed once again by my naked body, the shape and firmness of my young but nubile flesh.
"Those tits of yours – kid, they're really something. I wish my Kitten had a pair like that. Rub your nipples and make them stiff, let me see. Go ahead, do it, nice and stiff."
"Uh-huh. Like this?"
"Yeah. Mmm, great big ones, big and solid. Much too good to waste. I want you to fuck me with them."
"F-fuck you?"
"Damn right. Wait. Shove that pillow under me…" Impatient now, she grasped her bent legs and rolled backward, wiggling around on the pillow to raise her rump high. Then, spreading wide to put her entire crotch on display, "Come close, doll. You're going to fuck me with your tits. Not my cunt, though. That's why it's got to be real stiff, you know? Your nipple. Stiff enough to force into my asshole."
Excitement flared – another novelty? – hardening my nipples to immediate peaks. Fingering one to keep it inflamed, I moved against her splayed buttocks and probed for entry, pressing the swollen bud into the slightly dilated aperture. It was blocked momentarily, but then the round muscle expanded to accept my flesh almost voraciously, grasping it with a kind of frenzied tenacity – a sensation unfamiliar to me, novel indeed! And wildly erotic, of course. Like the puckered lips of a sucking baby-mouth…
"That's it. Yeah. Deeper, deeper. Deep!"
My loins seethed with the infectious passion, spurring me far beyond mere obedience. I clutched my tit with both hands, squeezing from the base and forcing all that boob-meat to seek release up front, tightening it to an elongated point. The nipple seemed to gain a life of its own, becoming stronger and more solid, bursting through the final barrier to become stubbornly lodged in the inner softness, the sponge-like mucous depths.
"Good girl. You're in now. Hold it right there."
"Hmm?"
"No, don't move. Don't you dare move!"
"Oh…"
"Wait. You'll see. Just wait, let me get organized. There now, it's starting. Can you feel that?"
"I-I'm not sure. Hey. Wow! Adelaide!"
"Really getting to you, huh?"
"Nnng…"
She laughed again, but I didn't care now, not as long as that ring of muscle went on flexing like that, exerting tiny pull-pressures on my buried nipple. It didn't seem possible, but she was actually controlling the contractions in a slowly pulsating rhythm. I moaned aloud but couldn't manage to utter the words that kept running through my mind – suck it, suck my tit, suck my nipple, suck it, suck it, suck it with your asshole! – oh shit, such a lovely thought; why did it have to stick in my throat like that?
"Baby, baby, little doll-baby, that gets me so horny! Too much, too much. I can't stand it any more. Do my cunt now, fuck me with your tits. Nice big tits. In my cunt. Now. Fuck me!"
I hated the idea of leaving that happy little nook. But orders were orders, and I was still an obedient slave. And then all of a sudden I didn't mind so much, plunging through the black frizz and stuffing my tit – the other one now – into that wet gash. I shoved and squirmed nightily, burying the big swollen thing in slippery flesh and feeling that thick fringe of hair tickling all around, another new sensation; was there no end to the deliciously lewd variations of lesbian love?
Well, not love maybe, that was reserved for my mistress. But this skinny old bitch was sure lovable, just the same, and I'd be glad to fuck her like this all night. Or suck her. Which was how we got here, come to think of it; wasn't I supposed to be drinking straight from the well? Uh-huh. The cunt well. No hurry, though, my tits were kind of thirsty, too.