Night...too

Night slipped in.

Cool and welcome, it moved up my thigh. I leaned into him—what to call him now? my lover?—and he tried to transform the anxious tension in my body to something he would give me that approving murmur for. I had already opened the door, but there was something more he wanted. What?

Compliance.

Obedience?

That felt right. Obedience. And the thought didn't shake me. Rather that, and the reassuring sweep of his hand chasing that cool slip of night along my thigh, settled me; gave me some curious strength.

I knew there was another chapter, perhaps a whole catalog....a library full of warm, sweet and dark fantasy where I might pour my body out in a worship of indulgence.

Were those the voices again, outside...nearing...the boys he said would use me? One laughed and then I knew that they were real; the sound of rough and thoughtless anticipation, and my heart broke its rhythm.

"Will you go?" he whispered against my hair. "Will you give yourself...if I demand it?"

"Would you be with me?" I breathed back, voice as unsteady as my momentary composure.

His fingers tightened on my thigh, a reflexive declaration of possession. "Such things would be for my pleasure," he answered. "Never without me."

I closed my eyes; rested my cheek to his heart. "I will. For you."

My bland, boring world had just been torn down to nothing and rebuilt again on a foundation of freedom. There was no shame in it, nor regret, nor fear. Just an overwhelming sense of freedom and anticipation of more pleasure, something I had denied myself for so long in a world where I was the constant bastion of control. Lying there against him I felt complete in ways I had never allowed myself to dream were attainable.

"Vous êtes les miens, l'ange. Et pour ce cadeau, je vous honorerai."

And then he leaned toward the door, and closed it again. I felt his hands smoothing across my thigh; my back, and I drifted, eyes closing, the beat of his heart an erotic and comforting lullaby.

"Sommeil, ange. Vous aurez besoin de votre reste pour le Club"

I fell into sleep barely grasping that I had understood the last of that: 'rest for the Club'.

And then sleep took me as he had: wholly, without hesitation or resistance.

I woke in pieces, like an odd succession of movie scenes clipping disjointedly through my brain. The car stopping. More of the night's cool air bathing me, only to be replaced with a blanket. Being moved. His voice, whispering "sleep" and something that sounded like "baby", but in French. Then more sleep.

I woke the last time in bed. Not mine. It was too large by half and the bedding much too slippery; too silky. I slid beneath the feel of that silk on my skin and was smiling before I opened my eyes. Then the smile widened. I was naked, in a strange bed in a strange room. I had no idea who might walk through the heavy wooden double doors some thirty feet from where my toes flexed under pale silk sheets, and the very idea that someone might do just that....and the thought that they might demand something of me...made my cunt ache with wicked, wet need.

The thought had barely enough time to slip through my brain before the doors slammed open and despite my fantasy I made a harsh sound of surprise. A man did come in, and he was a stranger, weaving fantasy and reality together in my head. I slid up the bed, sheet held before my naked breasts like some pasty virgin in a romance novel, pushing up until my back was flat against the cold headboard. I didn't see his face; like that untried virgin I was keeping my face down. I could only see his torso when he reached the side of the bed; he was fit and smelled faintly of spice and was wearing a very expensive black suit. With one hand he took the sheet and tore it from me; it billowed out prettily before slumping into a silk puddle behind him.

"Are you afraid?"

I looked up. He was tall, obviously American, probably in his mid forties and he looked rather unthreatening, like a history professor I'd had in college. I shook my head and looked him in the eyes.

"Etienne said you had fire." Stepping back, he offered me his hand.

I took it.

"Would you care for a robe?" he asked.

It seemed rather odd, to be walking across the room naked with a man who was fully, and so formally, dressed. "Will I need it?"

He chuckled and said no.

I took a deep breath and said no.

When we reached the doors, I heard soft music playing. Chopin, I thought hazily as I was led out and into a hallway. The feel of thick carpet warmed my feet; another bit of sensation added to my Lady Godiva stroll. As we reached a stairway I froze, pulled back, and my hand slipped from his. He took a step before turning to look back at me. There was no anger in his expression, no frustration; just curiosity.

"Is it....will it be....only you?" I asked, my voice cracking a bit on the whisper.

He gave me a moment, perhaps to prepare me. "No," he said. Etienne invited four of us this evening."

Four. Five, with Etienne, whom I assumed was my lover. Five men.

He must have read panic in my expression but again, he showed no sign of frustration with my delay. Instead, he took the step back toward me, sifted a hand through my hair, watching it as it fell back over my shoulders. "No one is going to hurt you, little girl," he murmured. "Etienne is not that sort, nor are we. We are simply going to...enjoy you," he said huskily, moving a bit closer, slipping my hand back into his again. "And it would please us very much if we can give you pleasure."

He took his place to my side again, my hand in his protective one, but he didn't take a step.

I did.

The stairway was beautifully curved, a sweep of dark, well-polished wood. I moved down each step, closer to the sound of a mournful violin, as if I were moving in dreams. The staircase ended in a wide hall. Only the music disturbed the quiet, and as we neared the base of the stairway, voices—these were deep, rich and cultured; slightly muted, a sharp contrast to the voices on the street.

'still,' my thoughts whispered, 'they are going to use you, just the same'.

A room at the end of the long hall was the only source of light. Buttery yellow, it found its way through cracks in the doorway because the door itself was ajar, spilling onto marble tiles. We walked across them in silence.

At the doorway he released my hand, leaving me to squeeze my fingers around empty air. Moving in front of me he opened the doors, bathing me in the buttered light, and silence fell.

I saw my lover—Etienne—and kept my eyes on him where he leaned against a massive fireplace. The fire burned there...and in his eyes...and in me. I went to him, barely hearing the sound of the double doors being closed and locked behind me. Etienne put out his hand for me, and I pressed myself against his side; he wrapped his arm around me.

"I am so proud of you, cherie," he whispered, kissing my temple. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded, slipping my arms around his neck.

"Do you want a kiss?"

I nodded; lifted my face for him, but he only smiled. "Remember," he whispered so that only I could hear, "for my pleasure."

I nodded; waited for the kiss, but he took me by the waist and turned me to face his guests. They were all in their late forties to early fifties, I guessed, and all dressed similarly: formal black suits or tuxedos. Two held snifters, one sipping leisurely as he watched me, smiling faintly. Another in a far corner leaned insolently against the edge of a heavy bookcase, paused in conversation, lifted a cigar to his mouth and took an appreciative draw; his expression was rather cold, his eyes direct.

Standing exposed, my back to my lover, I felt something terrifying—and wholly erotic.

"Jason," Etienne said, drawing the attention of the man who had escorted me downstairs, "My sweet girl would like a kiss."

That's how it began. A kiss. Jason smiled, giving Etienne a small, formal nod of acknowledgment. Slipping off his jacket he folded and laid it neatly across the back of a sofa before he walked to me. This was to be no hasty, clothes-ripping orgy...this would be slow and careful.

Jason took me into his arms as Etienne released me and I went from one to the other in liquid-smooth transition. He bent his head and took my mouth, kissing me deeply and slow. My arms around his neck, Jason kissed me harder, his hands sliding down my back to cup my ass and pull me into the feel of his erection, only the barrier of his clothes between us.

That kiss was my release. I could be this woman now; I could live this need and take this desire—his, and then the others. I was ready. I was not polite; I tore at his shirt, the studs popping and falling silently on the carpeted floor. In a moment his bare chest was hot against my breasts and I was lost in the feel of heat and flesh.

A second man came up behind me; splayed his hands across my back, and I moaned. He put his mouth to my neck; let me feel his teeth against the sensitive spot on my shoulder blade, making me shiver. Four hands on my body; Jason's on my ass, kneading; my second lover sliding his hands to my breasts, cupping their weight before squeezing and softly pinching my nipples, making me shift and push my hips harder against Jason's cock.

Jason moved his hands down to my hips; the man behind pushed forward and I was squeezed between them, feeling the hard ridges of two ready cocks pushing at me from the front and behind. I had lost the reality of the room, of those who watched; even of my fear that Etienne would leave me alone. I lost everything but the thought of these men, their need, and my own hunger. Pushing Jason back I raised my hands and, without supporting my own weight, went to my knees, their hands supporting me as I slipped to the floor.

I worked Jason's black belt loose, the leather warm and sensuous in my fingers. I left it in place, the edges of it gaping lewdly open; the sound of the metal an erotic counterpart to the strings of some orchestra playing Mozart. And while Jason's hands in my hair were caressing, they were also firm and demanding, pulling me forward while I worked the button and then the zipper of his trousers, opening him; finding his cock and bringing it out for my hands; for my mouth.

I slid my fist around the base and he growled, his hands fisting in my hair. The man behind stepped away but it was a faint realization. I heard the music; the crack and pop of the fire; the murmur of male conversation, and I saw them watching me, from the corner of my eye. I didn't care. I had this thick, hot, aroused cock in my hand and I was lost in the glorious need of this man and my own wanton passion; the feel of him pulsing in my hand and the soft contrast of his cockhead as I slipped it into my mouth and it slid, wet and perfect, along the roof of my mouth. I lifted my tongue to run along the underside of the head and he jerked involuntarily, pulling my head forward and forcing his cock to the back of my throat. I gagged a little and he pulled back, only to have me lunge forward again. I wanted him in my mouth.

"Such hunger," Etienne addressed the room as he walked by, stroking my hair as he passed. "And such a pity that no one had seen it before."

"Perhaps not," another of the men responded. "It is our good fortune, after all."

"An excellent point, Blake," Etienne murmured as he continued to the sofa.

I was riding Jason's cock with my mouth. He was moaning, hips moving forward and back as he mimicked fucking it, hands tangled in my hair. When he pulled away I had no time to plead for him to come back; someone else fisted his meatier hand in my hair and pulled my head back a little painfully. He smiled, almost cruelly, and even that made my clit spasm a little with need. I whimpered and he pulled my head down again. His dick was in my face. I opened my mouth, nearly an instinctual response, but he only made a deep, masculine sound of dominance and stroked himself, teasing me as I squirmed. My hands grasping for leverage found his bare thighs.

"She's a little whore," he smirked, sliding the pre-cum slick head of his cock over my lips and watching me lick them; lick hungrily at the underside of him. "Open your mouth, whore," he demanded.

I did, and he filled it; the taste and size and thickness of him more than Jason; his hands hard on my head, his fucking deliberate and deep.

"Don't be such a skeptic, Scott. There are whores and there are women who simply enjoy giving pleasure. She is...a bit of both." Etienne and his company laughed; I could see them watching, Jason a few feet away, still partially dressed, stroking his cock, Etienne seated on the sofa, fully dressed, simply watching...but his eyes told me that he was enjoying this as much as he would have if it had been his cock in my mouth. The flash of that—recognition—between us was unspeakably erotic.

The other two men were watching as well, one seated at the far end of the sofa where Etienne sat, the other standing a few feet away. Both were dressed, but both were stroking themselves through their dark trousers.

"Let's see if she can manage two," the one who was seated said. "Jason, why don't you offer her a little more. If she is a whore, she should have no difficulty."

Jason stepped back toward me; I reached a hand out before he was close enough to reach him, sliding my fist over his dick as he came closer.

"You're right, Porter.....she definitely wants more."

Porter, who was seated, unzipped his tuxedo pants and pulled his cock out; it was average in length, but impressively thick. He stroked himself with one hand while he lifted his snifter and sipped with the other.

Scott pulled out of my mouth, only to push my head back toward Jason. I needed nothing to encourage me; in an instant I was moving back and forth between them, sucking one then the other, stroking the cock I didn't have in my mouth.

"Fuck!" Jason growled, pulling hard away from me. I fell forward onto my knees and one palm; the other hand was wrapped around Scott. "I want to make this last a while," he said, moving to a side table for his drink.

"Bring her here," Porter ordered. I'd like my meat in that pretty mouth."

"Go on," Scott ordered, shoving me away. "There's another cock that needs a whore."

On my hands and knees now, I had gone beyond myself. Not bothering to rise I crawled across the carpet, past Etienne. But instead of easing Porter's need, I reached out to the fourth man, pulling him toward me by his waistband. I ignored his slight hesitation and opened his pants.

"You must be gentle with our new member, cherie," Etienne murmured. "This is his first party."

I didn't care. I took out his cock and kissed the head, licked all along the underside, making him shiver and whisper "Oh god..." When I had him in my mouth I sucked him hard and fast for just a moment before looking up at him and saying "fuck me". Then I went down onto my knees again, my face in Porter's lap. The older man used his hand to direct his cock into my mouth before releasing it.

"Oh, have some pity on the girl," Porter moaned as he stroked my hair. "Fuck her good and hard, Blake."

I felt Blake moving behind me; the sounds of his clothes falling on the floor. I spread my knees and moved my hips restlessly. Porter took two fingers and slipped them into the brandy snifter before dribbling the alcohol around the base of his cock. I licked at it, laved his balls with the flat of my tongue and he gave me pleasured moans in response. While I worked my tongue over and around his balls he took his cock in hand again and stroked.

Blake...or someone....was kneeling behind me. I felt the head of him push at my pussy lips, at first almost timidly and then more forcefully, until he found me. He shoved forward and I pushed back, taking his whole length. He pulled out and slammed harder, then harder again, and I moaned with my mouth and my cunt filled.

"Geeez...us...." Porter managed between clenched teeth. He was looking into my eyes; the feel of being fucked hard and deep distracted me from his cock for just an instant, but I started on him again, taking him in my mouth and bobbing my head in rhythm with the fucking. The snifter rattled as he tried to set it right on the side table; I could feel his hands shaking as he put them to the back of my head, urging me.

"Oh....fuck....yes......suck harder, darling." He pushed his hips up from the sofa to get deeper. "You need this, don't you pretty girl?" he rasped. "You need to cum for us. Put...your...fingers...in that...hot little...cunt!"

I wanted to. But before I could move, Blake's hands turned to painful fists on my hips; he began to slam into me without mercy and he came, hard, groaning his pleasure over the civilized sounds of piano and cello. He collapsed on my back for a moment, catching his breath.

"Such a tight little pussy," he heaved. "I'll give you better the next round," he assured me, slapping my ass as he rose.

"Come up, cherie," Etienne directed. Fuck Porter and let him have a taste of it...we have others waiting."

I rose to my feet between Porter's knees, his prick standing up, wet from my mouth, and slid into his lap. Even as slick as I was, it took some pressure to get him inside me; he was thick as a fist. Then I sat up and rode him. His hands went to my breasts, then his mouth, biting softly at my nipples while I bucked and writhed atop him. I came. Once, and then again almost in succession, my cunt squeezing him hard and wringing a hoarse shout of almost agonizing pleasure from his throat as he strained upward, throwing his head back against the sofa, pinching my nipples hard.

I sat there a little slumped and a little more dazed as he smiled up at me.

"Good girl," he murmured. "But you aren't finished yet, are you?"

"Not by half," Etienne interjected smoothly. Rising from his place he reached his hand out to me, steadying me as I rose. "Gentlemen, the table."

Table...it sounded like some sort of torture and yet even the idea of being bound and whipped made me hungry. I followed Etienne where he led. The table was rectangular, with two extensions jutting out at angles at the bottom. Lifting me up he kissed the slope of my breast. When I would have offered my mouth, he only smiled and urged me to lie back.

"Later, angel," he promised. "First, this."

I sank down into the thick, warm table. Etienne took my ankles in his hands, spreading my legs onto the two lower extensions. Then he moved forward, his hips between my open thighs, and I could feel the heat and hardness of him, even through his trousers. The table was only long enough for my torso. With my legs spread I was in perfect position to be fucked...and I only had to tilt my head back a little for another cock. He and I shared a moment there, my naked body laid out for pleasure and he, fully dressed, not taking it. And yet he did.....

He slid his palms up, over my thighs, his thumbs teasingly close to my cunt; I arched off the table; closed my eyes; Etienne's hands moved over my belly to my breasts.

Jason said "Finish me, little girl," as he took the place at my head, tilting my head back to feed me his cock. Etienne's hands left my body for an instant, then returned. In another instant his cock pushed easily past my swollen, wet folds and deep inside me. As his hands turned hard on my hips he spoke, but it was Scott's voice.

"There, whore," he growled, pushing into me before grinding his hips hard into mine. "Another cock...and another...and how many more before you're satisfied?"

'Never' I whispered in my head. Never. But I could only answer with my body, working my mouth and tongue over Jason's cock, lifting my hips to take more of Scott's angry fucking, my hands desperate to move. I touched myself—my mouth, as Jason's flesh moved with almost desperate gasps of air between strokes, wrapping my fingers around his shaft to stroke as he pulled out; squeezing the base of his cock when he thrust forward and into my throat. I touched my breasts, my belly. Sliding my left hand down to spread my pussy lips, I exposed my clit with two fingers, sliding my right middle finger around it and rubbing it; teasing it. When I came again it was hard, my body stiffening; I made a choking sort of sound around Jason's cock and at that moment he cursed and shot his cum into my mouth, his prick spasming on my tongue. When he was sated he pulled from my mouth, leaned down to kiss my forehead, and whispered how he would pleasure me with his tongue before fucking me when he had a turn at my cunt.