Buying the Virgin

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.”

kind of noise

myself up to sit cross-legged on the bed, breaking loose from Michael. “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

but a slow, pleased smile breaks over his austere face. Michael sits up next to me, wearing a

not really Charlotte, you

“Of course, I know.”

mind telling you now, who I am. I know you’re a good man, good men. I can trust you

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

then leans forward to kiss me, clasping the back of my head with one hand, pulling me in

now, instantly replies to him, a pang of arousal piercing me and I draw in breath sharply. What happened

his hand wandering to

sit this one out for now,” says my Master behind me. “But I will enjoy watching you two.” He leans over to a side table, pouring himself a glass of wine, then returns to

hand on my breast narrowing in on the nipple, plucking at it, tweaking and twisting. Little sparks shoot through me, igniting my sex. Warm and damp

to tighten and crinkle of its own accord. Pinching at it, it hurts but I want more and he pinches harder. “Come on,” he says. “Let

and stiffening, so I help it along, fingering the head between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and

of sweat appears on his chest. I can smell him, deliciously male and musky, perfumed with sex

questing ever upwards and inwards, not into my sex, but all around. They play just around my pussy lips, sending

twitching,

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

the seeping droplet at the tip, inserting my tongue into the slit. My position is awkward and uncomfortable,

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 tip. It gives me a feeling of power, to bring a man to full, throbbing

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