Buying The Virgin Part 1-3

Standing behind, arms curved around me, he strokes my stomach, caresses and cups my breasts, and a hundred eyes follow his motions. The air is not cold, but a slight draught blows cool over me, raising my nipples, puckering them tight. My Master rolls one between forefinger and thumb, whilst the other hand quests south.

With a start, I know what he is doing. This is a reflection of our mirrored conversation of the previous day, but now with no mirror, just the audience, watching my Master take his pleasure with me.

Trembling with nerves and a little chill, nonetheless, my pussy exudes a liquid heat and my thighs are dampening, my hot juices trickling. Lips parting as my breathing increases further, my chest beginning to heave, I flush in anticipation of what…?

My eyes roll sidelong to the array of whips and lashes, to the flogger my Master selected.

“Michael. If you would.”

Michael produces a tie from his pocket, a black silky scarf which he binds around my left wrist, then also, my right wrist, with a second silken cloth. He leads me by my bound wrists to the padded horse.

“Bend forward Charlotte,” he whispers.

He ties each wrist to either end of the bench, leaving my arms splayed and bound. Arranging me, he presses my face, cheek-side-down against the padding so I can see only obliquely, to one side. My hips and legs, he pulls outwardly. My ass, he lifts, to be displayed and accessible, parting my cheeks and folds, to reveal my wet, pink entrance. His final move is to push my ankles apart,

My Master trails the tresses of the flogger over the contour of my spine to my face. Lingering and soft, the sensation is exotic, erotic, and I shiver.

He murmurs, “Charlotte, if this gets close to your limits, you say ‘Yellow’. If it becomes too much, you say ‘Red’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’re sure? You stop this at any time. You simply say ‘Yellow’ or ‘Red’.”

“Yes, Master. I understand.”

He strokes my hair, which trails in a long, foxy fall from the padded bench, then, moving around me, draws the tails along from my shoulders, to the curve of my waist and hip.

A pause, a sharp flick, and the soft lashes kiss my thighs.

lash licks across my buttocks. This is not painful; only…. stimulating. My folds swelling, pussy lips opening, I well

my shoulders and neckline, before another, sharper strike of

move my legs to a more comfortable position, but my Master, hooking his shoe around my ankles, parts my

sideways on, I cannot see my Master, but Michael is watching me, his eyes alternately fixed on my

lash swipes across my buttocks again, harder now, the stroke biting in, and, as my pussy freely flows, I bite my lower lip. The strange ethereal feeling blooms, an inner glow that laves my body and

And somehow…. calming….

it does, but I embrace the pain as it transmutes to pleasure and a growing inner desire. With each stroke, I gasp, jolting as the whip

my thighs, flaring against my clit and my swollen folds, scalding in. My body heaves and judders, but dreamlike, I feel no desire to cease the pain. Instead, the sense of warmth, of serenity,

me closely. He steps forward, taking me by the chin. “Charlotte? Charlotte…. Say something

don’t wish to speak, but now, the lashing has ceased, and my Master, coming around to look at my face, remains silent, stroking my mouth with a finger, then

untie me from the horse and, lifting me, limp and compliant,

“Master?”

“Yes, Charlotte?”

want you

smiles, unbuttons his shirt and steps out of his jeans. Michael follows

whispers “Open your legs, Charlotte. Let me in.” And dreamily, I raise and part my

he lies between my thighs, my Master’s cock pushes at my engorged entrance, easing inside, and I cry out at the incredible sensation as he enters me. As he penetrates, my body welcomes him, pulsing and trembling, an electric response that seethes through me

quivering in time to his own heartbeat, and to

almost weep as I hug close to my Master’s chest, at the exquisite gift that he

my Master watches as my orgasm passes, before, his own climax arising, his head drops and he murmurs something

as he enters me, my Golden Lover, thrusting with slow steady movements

as he comes, grinding into me, pressing tight and filling me with his

me, for a long moment, before, heaving himself away from me, he rolls

Let’s get you home.” says

Michael, sliding his arms under me, lifts me; carrying me through the crowded watchers, out of the building back to the car. He places me on the rear seat and then gets

jolts me awake again. Shaking my head to disperse my strange, dreamlike state, “Are we going