Slave Girl 7

We pick you up at the airport and load your cases. We are taking you to our weekend retreat in the country. My wife drives while I sit in the back with you. I start feeling you up, put my hands inside your white tee-shirt. Your tits are soft and warm, naked and free. You are wearing skin-tight lamé pants which show all the folds, nooks and crannies of your arse and cunt, which pouts lewdly through the gossamer-like material inviting my touch. I put my hand on it and feel its heat, its divine sponginess. I wonder if you are shaved and hope you are not because I love hairy pussies.

We pull off the road, into a lay-by near some trees, because you want desperately to pee. You're thirsty too.

I tell you I want to watch you and to do it in front of me. You peel off your gold lame pants. You are not wearing panties and you are unshaven. You feel embarrassed at first and have trouble starting. I tell you to relax, not to worry. Then it comes, a spluttering dribble at first, and then a nice full glittering stream in the sunlight. Lovely!

Then it's my turn.

I tell you I want you to kneel in front of me. I unzip and hold my cock in my hand and ask you to open your mouth. I put my cock inside and start pissing. You swallow like crazy to keep up with the flow, coughing and choking all the time. My piss goes over your face, onto your white tee-shirt which goes all transparent and shows your tits real nice, all the outline and detail and colour, the pink titties, the dark aureoles, the pointy nipples -- just like in a wet tee-shirt contest. Man, it's so fucking horny.

My wife Pamela watches us from the car. I'd love for her to see you suck me off, see me shoot my load right down your throat or maybe give you a nice facial, but we don't have time and have to get under way again. Some walkers are just emerging from the clearing between the trees. We make ourselves decent just in time....

Part Two

For the rest of the journey you are quiet. At my request you have taken everything off so that now you are completely naked. I amuse myself with your body. I catch my wife's reflection in the driving mirror. She smiles knowingly, encouraging me in my actions. I smile back. She runs her tongue around her cherry lips. I know what she's thinking.

I put two fingers in your cunt and one in your asshole and frig you a little, see how wet you become. You feel quite tight in your smaller hole and I make a mental note to address that as soon as we get to the cottage. You need to be eased there. All your orifices are to be made available to Pamela and myself at any time of day or night, because our perverted urges sometimes come at the most awkward moments.

I take my fingers out of your body and let you smell them. I tell you to lick them clean too. You do so, looking into my eyes all the time. There is a hint of arrogance and insolence in them that I find unbecoming. I determine to rid you of it at the earliest opportunity.

I turn you around so I can study your back. Your bottom and your thighs make little squeaking sounds on the leather as you twist. The skin of your back is smooth and tanned. You have a tattoo in the small of your back. It's very pretty. I stroke the skin of your shoulders and then your back. Your flesh is flawless. I'd love to whip you and mark you, pretty marks of course, a little decoration for our delectation... mine and Pamela's, naturally... and yours if you would care to look in a mirror afterwards. We could make some nice stripy patterns on your unblemished flesh.

I ask you if you have ever been with a woman. You say that you kissed a girl once, at a school prom, out of curiosity. But that was all it was. You didn't really take to it. I inform you that Pamela is bisexual and that she will expect to have sex with you, it's part of the deal. You look unsure about it. I give you a reassuring hug and you smile and relax.

"I'll try to please both of you," you say.

"And what about whipping? We mentioned in our email. Would you be up for it?"

"I've never been whipped. I wouldn't know what to say about it."

I stroke the skin on your shoulder and kiss it. "It would make us both very happy if you would at least try it. It can be pleasurable for both parties. It doesn't have to be too painful. We are very skilled at it. There are different kinds of whips. Different levels of pain."

And then I take you in my arms and kiss you. Your soft mounds push into my chest and your mouth comes open. You are supplicant and I sense your willingness to give yourself freely, not only for my benefit, but hopefully Pamela's too.

(...continued in Part Three...)