A lot of wine had gone down, and yet it was like a genteel social gathering thus far. Three ladies sipping sedately. But that was only a surface impression, of course, and Alison remained all knotted up inside. It was bound to begin soon. They were already in her bedroom at Vera's suggestion and that alone would have been enough to create a certain anticipation. In this perfumed atmosphere, wasn't it obvious that they were three lesbian ladies? Or two ladies and a girl, rather. A very young girl, too young to be dabbling in such perverted pleasures. Or was she?
Alison felt a twinge of guilt, aware now that her reluctance was giving way to impatience. Such a delightful little creature, so respectful of her elders. And yet kittenishly coy too, somehow, almost coquettish at odd moments, doubtless inspired by the sensuality, the sexual significance of this strange meeting. Hardly cause for a guilty conscience! Those soft brown eyes, for instance, the eyes of a wise old woman in the face of a child, eyes that belied the apparent innocence of that tender young mouth; what better clue to base a considered judgment on? Certainly it couldn't be based on her body, a picture of demurely dressed adolescence the seated pose almost prim, stiffly upright, knees together. Quite a contrast with her lazily postured mistress, all but lounging on the bed; leave it to Vera to hog the limelight! Even now, her skirt seemed to be still on the rise, riding upward to reveal and call attention to voluptuously intimate thigh-flesh. As if she knew only too well that her audience was secretly licking its collective lips. And as if she wasn't at all worried about how and when the real intimacy would begin. Which only served to increase the tension and the wine-bibbing, naturally, turning ladylike sips into nervous gulps.
After a while, the youngster excused herself and trotted off to the bathroom, blushing rather becomingly but moving with an unwitting sway of hips and buttocks, incongruously sexy. As the door closed behind her, Vera's smile became a chuckle.
"Cute, isn't she? You saw the blush?"
"Uh-huh. Very pretty."
"Almost as rosy-red as your own. Nice, huh? A slave-girl who hasn't forgotten how to blush. I just hope she doesn't change. But they all do, I guess we all have to grow up."
"Like me, you mean."
"Oh, you still do it. Not as often maybe, but still as pretty as ever. And you'll probably be blushing long after the kid has had it knocked out of her. Which could be soon, I'm afraid. The tough training, you know it's bound to happen working under Solange, learning how to keep a mistress happy, learning how to suck, learning to love cunt… "
"Poor kid."
"You're sympathetic, at least. I'm glad of that. I was beginning to think you didn't like her at all, Alison. Either that or you're getting prissy again, just sitting there like a bump on a log."
"I I was just waiting for something to happen. Waiting for you to make the first move."
"Oh? In that case, we might as well start right now. Come on over here, it's more comfortable on the bed."
"Shouldn't we wait till "
"Come here! Or do I have to drag you?"
The long arm was already stretching out for her, too decisive to be ignored, and Alison found herself obeying like a puppet on a string. Sinking to the bed, she shivered rapturously as a hot-breathed whisper scorched her ear.
"There now, isn't this much better? Try to relax, darling. Relax with me now, then you'll feel relaxed and ready for Judy later. You two should get to know each other, I mean really know so that there won't be any of this stiffness between you. So that you can have her here alone sometimes, just the two of you together, you and my sexy little slave-girl. Only she'll be your slave-girl then for the night or however long you want to keep her; wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't you like an ever-ready little slave serving you? It's a thrill, believe me. And that's what she's been trained for, to please her mistress, even a temporary one, a mistress for just an hour maybe. You'll see."
"I-I still don't feel-"
"Let's get relaxed now. Nice and naked, hmm? Come on. What do I have to do, seduce you all over again? Aren't you my cuntlapper, my favorite cuntlapper?"
A numbness pervaded Alison's flesh and with it came the other thing, the overwhelming excitement of submission, the perverse thing that she dreaded but couldn't do without. Her clothing was already in disarray. And now she was doing it herself, undressing hurriedly and even trying to assist her lover. So that they could both be naked, all nice and naked…
"Yeah. You're hot now. Hot enough to suck me good. Oh, I do want my cunt lapped tonight. And you want to lap it. Lucky me. Lucky you. A sizzling cunt and a starving cuntlapper. You are a cuntlapper, aren't you?"
"Oh. Must we "
"Don't dodge the question. I'd like an answer."
"You know the answer. Please. Vera. Can't we wait until we're alone? Talking dirty, I mean. What if she hears us?"
"You'd better say it. Answer me. Or else I'll get mad and make you shout it out loud. You want that?"
"N-no. Please. I I'm a cuntlapper."
"You're my cuntlapper."
"Yesss… "
"My cuntlapper. Let's hear it now, once more. And you'd better not give me any trouble." Vera rose from the bed abruptly, her voice ringing with cold fury. "On your knees this time. Here! Down on your knees where you belong. Cuntlapper!"
It was a new low in humiliation. The lowest. But the excitement prevailed, mounting monstrously now, and Alison suffered in shame but dropped to the floor without further protest, an obsequious figure groveling in humble homage. "I'm your cuntlapper. Yours!"
"Oh, I like that. And so do you, I'll bet. Here then, here's my cunt be good to it, you horny cuntlapper!"
Hands grabbed and tugged, dragging Alison along as the statuesque body sagged and fell back upon the bed. It was a frenzied scramble for a moment, but she managed to retain some degree of contact throughout the maneuver even as her soul shrieked for release. There was a warm weakness inside her, a weakness that insisted on following the path of least resistance. Or was it the most pleasure? Regardless, she couldn't fight against all that power, the demand, the hands and now the clasp of those big soft thighs. Nor was she even hesitant any more as the great hairy split opened to engulf her. It seemed only natural to use her lips and mouth and tongue for this all-important caress, only natural to make an all-out effort to keep her luridly arrogant lover from blowing up. After all, wasn't she a willing and comparatively well-trained cuntlapper?
That was when it happened, just as she was about to concentrate on her now-welcome task. Not that it could have affected her performance much, judging by the flesh writhing moistly around her buried face, an undiminishing response. But it did startle her, interfering at least momentarily so remote, just a faint touch way down there on her foot! Or was it just imagination? Mildly disoriented, she took stock and realized that her body was still angled across the bed in haphazard fashion, face-down and comfortably asprawl, one leg dangling over the edge. Unmistakably now although without the benefit of any similar previous experience she recognized the unfamiliar and certainly unexpected contact as a kiss. A kiss on the foot; who but a slave-girl would do such a thing? Such a toe-tingly feeling! And wasn't it sweet of the kid to sneak in like that, softening the impact of her intrusion so unselfishly? Charming, utterly charming. And clever, too, really quite ingenious.
Alison moved a little, just enough to convey her interest in this wistfully passionate approach. She arched her foot with a tiny peremptory wriggle, hopeful and then triumphant as the wet lips parted and sucked on her toes. Eagerly submissive lips, striving to please and making her acutely conscious of new erotic possibilities. All the more so as the kiss gained confidence and began to travel. Up her leg. Toward her cunt. A cuntlapper of her own, how nice! But no, it wasn't like that at all, not in this position, and she could already feel her plump cheeks spreading open to admit those busy lips kissing my ass? and now that hot little tongue-tip was probing the crack, licking deep inside and searching for something deeper, burrowing right in back there there and it was all she could do to hang on for dear life and go on sucking cunt while her overheated rear end jiggled and jutted up for more of that deliciously sexy-dirty tongue.
Preparing for bed, Vera came to the conclusion that the evening had gone off with comparative success. Not as well as expected, though, and for that she had only herself to blame. This urge for sexual domination, was it really that necessary? Did she have to play the loud-mouthed boss every time?
Not that it hadn't been smoothed over, of course. But it was only too apparent now that her revised judgment of Alison's nature had been quite accurate. The wealthy young divorcee simply refused to be forced into a totally submissive role. Tonight, as it turned out, she had actually resented being put through her paces with the kid around. And she had said so, in no uncertain terms, after it was ended, fuming over the indignity of being forced into their usual "slavery" game when there was a real slave-girl present. Or even within hearing distance. Wounded pride, no doubt a matter of vanity, pure and simple which might have become troublesome indeed had the aggravation been allowed to fester.
In a way, then, the incident hadn't been so bad. Vera had learned something from it and was smart enough not to make the same mistake twice. Better yet, the reproach had put her back on course, serving as a reminder of the insecurity of her precarious position. Hadn't she already decided that her own pleasure should be secondary at this point? And with that in mind, she had recovered from the blow brilliantly quick thinking, old girl! with a tentative but well-received suggestion that she leave early and let the threesome become an experimental twosome. A stroke of genius! It was going on right this minute actually, the little slave was spending the night there and probably accomplishing miracles by her presence. Certainly it was a giant step in the planned corruption of that aristocratic blonde beauty, a giant step on the road to financial security and wasn't that what this sexy affair was all about?
Okay. All's well that ends well. Vera's spirits perked up considerably. Except that she still felt a bit restless, naturally, an obvious consequence of her unforeseen early departure from what was supposed to have developed into an all-night orgy. The sacrifice had brought peace of mind, but it sure wasn't doing anything for her frustrated body. No great problem, though, not with an outlet for her frustration so conveniently close. Grinning in anticipation, she surrendered to the sudden impulse and took the shortest possible route toward sexual satisfaction naked, what else? spurning even a pair of slippers in her erotic haste. Like a thief in the night, she padded through the hall. Or a rapist, more likely, a sneaky rapist on the prowl. Uh-huh. The room was dark and her vulnerable rape-victim lay asleep.
"Solange?"
"Mmmff… "
"Wake up. I need you."
"Ummm. Huh?"
The mattress shuddered and sagged under Vera's knee. She reached down, grabbing for a handful of hair from the lolling head beneath her. And as she looped her other knee across the sleep-drugged face, a warm breath rose to greet her from below, tickling her crotch. It was like a guide for her settling body. Slowly, languorously, the drowsy servant came out of her stupor.
Vera quivered, keenly aware of the sensation, continuing her descent less cautiously now. She moved with abrupt force at the last instant, catching the upturned face between her bare buttocks. Then she held still and waited, wondering now about the impulse that had propelled her into this comparatively unfamiliar position. Even in reclining comfort, it wasn't one of her favorite caresses. The idea must have been left over from earlier in the evening, a recollection of Judy's servile attitude toward Alison. Were they still doing it over there, having a kiss-ass orgy of their own? Regardless, it seemed unfair to come home frustrated and make poor old Solange bear the burden.
Then again, maybe the burden was quite bearable. A whimper sounded faintly, muffled in flesh, piteous but not exactly a sign of protest. There was no struggle down there, no attempt to escape, and Vera could only assume that the imprisoned face had already become reconciled to its prison. And she was sure of it a moment later, squirming in sudden delight as the unmistakable thrust of a tongue ended all doubt. An eagerly amorous tongue right up my asshole! bidding her a fond welcome with enthusiastic familiarity; after all, the lewd caress itself was hardly new to their longtime relationship. Only the position. And now that too might become part of the routine, an already proven innovation, already successful in transforming the suspended stupor into a state of highly animated activity. As though poor old Solange didn't mind being burdened at all. Such devotion! Wasn't it really a demonstration of love?
Perched there in all her naked glory, Vera felt like a queen on a throne. No more worries, no forebodings about the future. Everything was coming up roses. Roses, roses, roses. She could even feel it in her rosy red asshole. Oh shit, it was like sitting on a rosebush, thorns and all. Just thorny enough to prickle a bit and keep her from getting careless.