Buying The Virgin Part 1-3

Chapter 16: The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Sixteen

“So, Charlotte. It is our final day together tomorrow.”

Stretched out on my back, my Master is lying beside me, stroking my stomach and left breast, as we keep company together on the bed in his beautiful mirrored room. Candles glimmer and their multiple reflections cast a gloried shimmering light.

Michael, on the other side of me, is suckling at my right breast, a free hand stroking at my thigh.

We are not exactly in lustful mood, more sensual: occupying a kind of sexual hinterland resulting from several days of roller-coaster, carnal adventure after I auctioned myself and my virginity to my Master.

I am not a Virgin anymore.

“Yes, Master. Our final day.”

“I hope you have enjoyed our time together? No regrets?”

“No Master. It’s been wonderful. You - and Michael - have opened my eyes; changed my view of the world.”

Michael chuckles through his mouthful of my right nipple. My Master smiles. “I can imagine. To have been through your miserable non-marriage… I know it wasn’t your fault, but there must surely have been times when you questioned yourself?”

Sighing, “Yes, that’s true. There were times when I wondered if it was me. Was I so unattractive that my own husband wouldn’t or couldn’t…”

My Master taps me lightly on the breast. “No!” His word is sharp, but his voice gentle. “Not true, Charlotte. Unattractive? You are beautiful. Truly beautiful. Do you seriously think I would have paid what I did if you weren’t? Girls in sore need of money are not that hard to find, you know.”

affirmative kind of noise through

“I suppose so Master, but nonetheless, I mean every word I say. I’ve actually had a wonderful week, and I do want to say thank

slow, pleased smile breaks over his austere face. Michael sits

really Charlotte,

“Of course, I know.”

telling you now, who I am. I know you’re a good man, good

Master presses a finger to my lips. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll always be Charlotte to me. And, I think I can speak for Michael that he feels

too talkative, nods and smiles, then leans forward to kiss me, clasping the back of my head with one hand, pulling me in close,

so responsive now, instantly replies to him, a pang of arousal piercing me and I draw in breath

has just happened, his hand wandering to

I will enjoy watching you two.” He leans

plucking at it, tweaking and twisting. Little sparks shoot through

hurts but I want more and he pinches harder. “Come on,” he says. “Let me hear you.” This time he twists, and I yelp, not in protest

golden curls, is rising and stiffening, so I help it along, fingering the

pupils dilating, and a fine sheen of sweat appears on his chest. I

not just watching. His fingers, caressing the soft skin between my thighs are questing ever upwards and inwards, not into

to sing. Hips twitching, I want to

slide further in, slipping between pussy lips rapidly engorging, growing more slippery by the second as my pussy obligingly juices up. The fingers slick up quickly, reaching for my nub. As they spiral around my clit, my breath begins

tongue into the slit. My position is awkward and uncomfortable, but I

down to lie on my back again. Shoving a pillow under my head, he straddles my chest presenting his cock to me again. This time it is much easier and I can take him properly into my mouth, sucking at the head as hard as he seems to want it, licking up the full length from base to

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