Emma did manage to look away as the pair of them slid apart, keeping her eyes fixed on the thick carpet while she waited for them to make themselves decent. To her surprise however, she found Hugh walking across to the sofa and he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out before twisting her round and pinioning her wrists expertly behind her back with one strong hand.
"Come over here, Emma. You've watched enough, girl," he whispered, public school tones echoing through the flat, as he pushed her ahead of him to where Jess waited, legs still spread wide and with trails of perspiration trickling down her breasts and stomach. Though she tried to resist, he was much too strong for her and she soon found herself with her face sliding down Jess' trim figure, sweet sweat moistening her skin as she was pushed lower and lower until she found her nose being tickled by the soft curls of her friend's pubic hair. She wriggled away but only found herself thrust back and her arms bent higher up her back making her squeal with pain. Tears stained her cheeks, mingling with the sweat, as inexorably her face was forced towards her friend's soaked slit and Emma gave a little gulp of shame as her mouth touched the slipperiness.
"Now as you would not suck my cock earlier, Emma, you can clean your friend up and drink my seed out of her instead!" laughed her captor and Emma cringed inwardly at the thought. In many ways it was what she desired and she knew that deep down but she would not allow herself to give in to her secret wantonness and so she again tried to squirm away. This time he lost patience and tumbled her forward until she lost her balance and collapsed on the carpet. Instantly he turned her over and then told Jess to squat down and Emma found herself staring up helplessly at the swollen, seed-leaking slit of her friend as the pink petals loomed ever nearer. In just a few moments she found her face trapped by Jess' thighs and her mouth was pressed almost unbearably tightly against the soft slipperiness while her nose smelt the rich and dangerously sensuous aroma of her friend's crinkled bottom hole. Emma could hardly breathe and she had to open her mouth to suck in some oxygen and thus found herself tasting the delicious but forbidden fruit of her best friend's pussy. She could not stop herself crying with shame as she started to slurp away at the luscious labia while she felt Hugh's fingers slip under the elastic of her panties and slide across her own slippery slit. It was both heaven and hell as her senses screamed out for mercy and she felt his sperm drip steadily out of Jess' slit and into her waiting mouth while she inhaled her friend's most secret scent. It seemed to last for hours but it could only have been a few minutes before she found herself coming; a rolling wave of tsunami proportions flooded through her body and she screamed out her rapture into Jess' muffling quim while her body bucked and wriggled in delight and desire.
Afterwards she had been allowed to go though Jess had stayed the night and had been seeing Hugh regularly since according to her text messages. He had ordered Emma to take off her stained silken panties before he had condescended to drive her back to her own rented flat a few miles away and she had been conscious of the leather touching her heated flesh on every yard of the journey. Since that evening though, she had ignored Jess' calls and texts, trying to shut the scene and her strong reaction out of her mind. Several times Jess had left a message asking her round to Hugh's flat but she had steadfastly refused to answer, fearing her own weakness would make her submit if she did.
Grimacing slightly at the fading memory, Emma clicked on the next email which was from the History Society, an organisation which she did subscribe to as it allowed her to visit places of interest at reduced rates. She read through the offers carefully as she was searching for somewhere to go on her holidays and she was intrigued by a minimalist, pared down advertisement that offered her the chance for an authentic Victorian experience that would advance historical research. It also offered special rates if she met their criteria and so she pursed her lips for a few moments as she wondered whether she should give it a go.
The idea appealed to her because she had always been interested in that period of history. The clothes of the wealthy ladies and their almost surreal lifestyle as they drifted around from one acquaintance to the other paying visits and the strange prudishness of their attitude to sex. She giggled as she thought of that and then blushed slightly as she suddenly decided that her own attitude was hardly much different. Her former fiancé had often tried to be inventive but she had shied away, rejecting his attempts to inveigle her into being tied, teased or spanked and eventually he had grown fed up and left her to search for someone who was more compatible. She sighed as she remembered how she had wanted to respond to some of his ideas but something had stopped her; probably the strict religious upbringing of her childhood, she thought ruefully. It had been church three times on a Sunday and then other meetings during the week and by the time that she had rebelled in her late teens, her attitude to sex had been engrained deep into her heart and soul. It was dirty and should only be within marriage and for the purpose of having a child! that was the mantra that had filled her ears for so long.
Emma tore herself away from bad memories and typed in the email address and started to look a little further into the idea of a Victorian style holiday. The site she slipped into was full of glowing testimonials and some, she decided, were probably genuine so she filled in an application form electronically, clicked the mouse and watched her details vanish into the ether while she sat back in her black leather chair and wondered exactly why they had wanted to know so much about her. Obviously her name, age and address were standard but some of the questions had been quite prying and almost prurient. She had eventually worked out why they needed her vital statistics although she had also thought that they could have just asked for her dress size rather than hips, waist and bust! Inquiring about her next of kin had seemed a little extreme however but Emma, with a wry shrug, dismissed it as the health and safety culture gone mad as she levered herself out of the comfortable chair and went off to make tea.
When she returned to the computer after eating her food, Emma was quite surprised to find a response to her email. It was Friday night after all and she had fully expected to have to wait until Monday or even longer. Her excitement grew as she read that she was just what they were looking for during their next research study in April and therefore they were prepared to offer her a very attractive price for a fortnight. Emma smiled, pleased with herself for finding such a bargain, and she emailed back instantly accepting the offer. Within ten minutes, more forms materialised for her to complete and she waded through them, scanning them carefully at first and then after the third, just typing in her answers and not bothering at all with the small print at the bottom of the final few pages. Finally she dashed off an electronic signature and clicked the mouse again before she sat back contentedly, delighted that she had managed to book a cheap holiday in North Devon for only a smidgeon over two hundred pounds. Cheerfully, Emma switched the computer off and picked up her book and settled down for a relaxing couple of hours reading in the company of Mr Rochester et al.
