Buying the Virgin

Chapter 20: The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Twenty

Michael’s breathing is slow and steady but deepening and his fingers twist into my hair, his grip tightening on me.

Abruptly, he pulls away. “It’s wonderful,” he says, bending to kiss the top of my head. “But I don’t want to blow off in five minutes. We have all evening.”

Un-noticed, my Master has slipped in from the kitchen and is stretched out by us, sprawled in an armchair by the fire, long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. A wine glass in his hand, he watches us, smiling; the flicker of the flames through the deep red wine casting amber and ruby shadows over the walls.

Lying down, I stretch like a cat on the fur rug, the light of the flames dancing over my skin, Michael joins me on the fur, stroking my back. His expert fingers ripple up my muscles, probing, investigating.

“You’ve been spending too much time on a computer,” he says. “Your shoulder muscles are knotted. Lie on your front. Let me work them out for you.”

I turn over and Michael straddles me. “I’ll do this properly later, but I need you on a bed for that. For now, I’ll just work on those muscle kinks.”

He is right. As his fingers dig into the knots, kneading them out, I grimace and wince. “Serves you right,” he says. “If you have poor posture or a bad position at your desk, this is the result. Have you got a proper office chair and desk? Your computer at the correct height?”

“I’ve been making do a bit,” I admit. “I wanted the money to stretch out.”

Michael is silent, and I see my Master pursing his lips.

Michael rises, disengaging from me, and slapping me on the rump, then he flips me over onto my back. His strength always surprises me. He’s not particularly tall but is stocky and powerfully built, broad-shouldered and muscular. He turns me over with no obvious effort, sending a rush of arousal through me.

Looking up from my bed of fur, Michael is kneeling to one side of me, my Master behind him, still lounging in his chair. Both are watching me and I feel I should give them something to watch.

then the other, I stroke my breasts, cupping and caressing, massaging the smooth pale skin. Tracing the curves with my fingers, I outline

my knees, inviting Michael in. His head tilts, eyes on me as smiling, he unbuttons his shirt and cuffs. Fascinated, I watch the play of the candles on the contours of his muscles, gleaming with a

above me, looking down, he unbelts his jeans, releasing his cock from where

knees further, settling between them, then his strong hands ripple over my stomach and breasts. Leaning, he kisses my belly and breasts, taking the nipples lightly between his teeth, nibbling gently and swiping around

pussy. Raising my hips, arms outstretched, reaching

the trace of a smile at the corners of his eyes, his

arms and body, his cock nudging against my swelling pussy lips, but not entering me. Instead, he teases my warming folds, rubbing

skin and of my own growing arousal mingle into a honeyed perfume of

to quiver. “Please,” I

himself to probe my pussy, pressing in on my entrance, but still not entering. He revolves

“Please Michael. Please.”

my teeth. His cock continues its relentless beguiling of my pussy, winding me up

me, thrusting my hips forward to sheath him inside

with lust, and panting uncontrollably, moaning in short gasps, I try again, but this time he pulls away, not allowing me to take him. Instead, he backs off, lifts me from under the arms, and twists me around, depositing me to

time I met him, that he had a fantasy of a beautiful young girl kneeling naked at his feet, and now I see the curve of

Michael adjusts his position behind me and his shaft once again probes deliciously against, and into, my now dripping cunt. He pushes and circles, slowly stretching me

mouth, loving it with my tongue, Michael encircles me with his arms, one hand

bud, tweaking and pinching. Little electric shocks jolt down through me, to combine with the frisson radiating out from

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