The Three

I'm not sure if I will write a follow up to this story. But consider this tit-bit an apology for leaving you all hanging with 'becoming a good girl' for almost a year. I hope you enjoy.

Xxxx

I have been in Berlin for Many weeks now.

But I have seen very little of the grand sights that the pamphlets and travel agents and air hostesses promised. It's been unseasonably warm, that much I know and have felt all too keenly through my bath robes and kaftans and skimpy slip dresses.

But I have barely noticed that I must be missing out on the world outside of my massive windows as I have been resting amongst diamonds, bathed in cotton and sweet yellow light continuously, going on two weeks now.

I eat very little, but I have never had much of an appetite, and I barely move for my every whim is catered to. I have been lifted, lifelessly from the massive pink bed, dark hair lolling over strong arms, and carried through tall arched marble doorways and past the flickering windows with their billowing cotton drapes ... Carried down the mezzanine and on to the clamshell bathtub.

It is there that I have been cradled in a lap or between two pairs of strong legs, undressed and submerged into the steaming frothy water. It is there that my hair has been drawn over the top of the crystalline bath water with large, loving hands and doused in fragrant pink and purple potions. It is there that my lover's have floated me like a treasure chest between them and caressed me, warm and coddled in the hot water.

My limbs have been cast across chests and lathered in sparkling liquid soaps, massaged and rinsed under a shower head in the shape of a magnificent pearl-colored clam. And it is there that when they have cleaned me, I have been clasped under the arms and pulled lovingly against a chest. Against that chest, half submerged in water, my head can loll into the crook of my lover's neck while my legs are butterflied open and the other strokes himself against me... until I am keening with desire and trembling between them.

I have been propped up between pillows in a giant dinner chair, my feet slipped into white satin heels. I have been fed delicately, with a soft cotton napkin at the corner of my cherry lips and I have tilted slim glasses of champagne and cranberry nectar against my tongue. I have been twirled between rooms full of mirrors and televisions, carried as a child on my lover's back and flung over their shoulders like a viking's pillage. I have danced and swing and giggled, I have been delighted and enrapt and enchanted by the color of our love.

I have had slim gold cigarettes lit between my teeth and I have been repeatedly dressed and undressed like a doll.

But best of all, when I have rolled onto my belly and lifted my ass up, whimpered in the right tone and dragged my curly hair lazily over my shoulder - a capable set of hands has come to my hips and aid.

When I do this, and request it, they often both come. One will scoop my heavy pale face and my thin curling hair onto his naked lap and gently feed me his satiny length. He strokes my hair and cups my chin, so that I barely move a muscle. His hips twitch but he never pulls or pushes, only supports me. I draw my tongue over him and breath deeply of his scent, my inside tightening at his attention. The other will smooth his hands over my lingerie and tease me through the fabric while I satisfy myself.

He almost always begin by dragging the head of his cock against my underwear and I will at that point be so inevitably wet that it will stick to my pussy and allow him to force himself between my delicate lips. Once I am moaning and pushing back against him he will do one of two things; he will either rip open the underwear and sheath himself as deeply inside of me as he is able or he will pull it down over the swell of my ass and plant his mouth against me. Either way, an orgasm is never far off and I am often left wailing around the cock in front of me, my spine curling and hips rolling uncontrollably.

Most recently however I have found myself awoken in the gently roaring darkness of the city, with a mean pressure forcing it's way inside me, my ivory nightgown cast up above my hips and my legs splayed open as I had fallen asleep. The twinkling city lights outside of the window wink and whisper to me about how lucky I am. And the hum of cars, and parties and voices many feet below us soothes me as my sleep-addled mind is drawn back to the feeling between my legs and the feeling of pressure on my hips from where my lover's big hands grasp and lean against me. My toes curl and my breathing deepens as I feel him finally press himself all the way inside me, his hands clenching tightly against my hip bone as he meets my cervix.

I reach blindly for the other and find him awake beside me, on his back, with his hand around his length and his head cast back in pleasure as he watches our shadows move urgently against one another. He grips my seeking hand with his free fingers and whispers that nothing would make him happier than to hear me cum and add my voice to the white noise sweeping in through our window and spilling into our bedroom.

I whimper that it hurts and both lovers groan in satisfaction, the other rolling closer and pressing himself against me to reassure me. He pulls my hair from under my shoulders and kisses me fiercely, moving our clasped hands down to his cock. Behind me I hear grunting and the length is pulled from me unexpectedly.

I cry out in shock but I am quickly silenced by his weight as he presses a thick finger inside me and lays over me slightly, propped up on his right arm beside my head.

'I'm sorry baby, you're just too tight and I'm not ready to be finished.'

His finger drums in and out of me, forcing gushes of wetness and multiple contractions. Both lovers are pressing into me from different angles one cock against my ass and the other at my thigh. The hand beside my head seeks out my free hand and clasps it lovingly, kissing the back of my head and my neck as he fucks me with his fingers. As I stroke the lover beside me however I feel an inexplicable urge ... unlike any I had felt before.

I'm greedy, that much is obvious but I wanted desperately to have more. To be *made* to have more. To be *made* to take more.

I begin to wriggle and squirm away from the hand on my cunt and I feel the breathing hitch in the chest of the lover behind me. He utters a word that is meant to keep me safe and I shake my head minutely but continue to fight his fingers. He breathes out heavily against the back of my neck and forces more weight onto my hips. In front of me, the other is beginning to become alarmed. 'let her up...' he murmurs, his eyes hooded. 'let her up...' he pulls back and lifts himself up onto his forearm, my hands forgotten.

He addresses our lover sternly, his voice filled with concern; 'she wants to be let up. Do you want to be let up honey?'

He repeats the safe word to both of us. There's a sudden stillness as the man behind me ceases, and I can feel their eyes on my little face and my little shoulders even in the darkness.

I lift my head and search for the lips of the man in front of me, he relishes the kiss and moans into my open mouth. 'I don't want to be let up. I want to be held down...' I kiss him again and I hear his breathing change to match the other's.

'Do you think you understand?' I ask, pressing myself up to a sitting position. My long hair pulls from under the one's hand and he shifts to let me up. They follow me and we sit in a triangle with myself at the head, perched partially amongst the overstuffed pillows. I reach for their hands and they lift my fingers up to kiss my pale knuckles. Beams of strong white moonlight strike us and the purple shine of artificial light below backlights us all. 'You'll use the word, if you need to honey?'

I promise them that I will and within a second my ankles have been grasped and I am being dragged down onto the bed once again.