Love and Betrayal

Becci heard Paul arrive home from work as she emerged from the shower. Her fingertips were wrinkled and the bathroom resembled a steam room, but she finally felt clean. Submitting to John's threats and allowing him to use her again left her emotionally and physically traumatised. This was the last time she would ever let him touch her.

Becci tried to wipe the condensation from the bathroom mirror to examine her body, but it quickly misted over again. She needed to buy a little time undisturbed in their bedroom, and called down to Paul, "Honey, I really don't feel up to cooking. Could you order a takeaway, a pizza perhaps?"

She dried herself and stood in front of their full length mirror. The marks John had left on her body were not as bad as she initially feared. Hopefully they would heal quickly, but she would have to hide them from Paul in the interim. She dressed and headed downstairs.

Since returning from their honeymoon Becci had rarely gone more than two days without making love to Paul. She resisted his advances that night with, "Please, no! Sorry, but I have really bad period cramps." He was initially understanding, but as the days passed by she continued to push him away. Becci embellished her story, claiming to have a heavy period, but her excuses were wearing thin. She had often pulled a tampon out at the height of her bleed to let him fuck her. She was horny too, and if anything her needs were greater than his.

Becci regularly checked the residual marks on her nipples, breasts and belly. By the eighth day she was convinced that Paul wouldn't notice anything wrong. She reached for him that night, barely touching him under the bedcovers. He was on her in an instant!

The cash Becci secured from John only put a modest dent in their debts. Paul continued to work excessive hours, including most weekends, and often returned home exhausted. More than once she disappeared upstairs in the evening to return in sexy lingerie or sometimes just her Louboutins, only to find him asleep on the couch. She felt both neglected and guilty.

Finally she told her Dad that they were in financial difficulties, and about the strain this was placing on their relationship. As always he came to his little girl's rescue, covering all of their outstanding debts. They were free to enjoy life to the full once again, and Becci longed to indulge Paul's every desire, just as she had on honeymoon.

She was still wary of realising even her tamer fantasies at home for fear of being seen and recognised. She planned a few short foreign city breaks to satiate her cravings, and to be Paul's perfect little slut. Of course there was no better place to start than a return trip to Paris. This time would be so much better.

The multitude of articles about libertine clubs captured her attention; she fantasied about being taken by several men under the watchful eyes of others, but she knew that was a step too far. The Moulin Rouge and similar venues seemed too big, too distant and unduly expensive. Then she stumbled across an intimate strip club, Théâtre Chochotte.

Becci was enthralled by the 'couple friendly' reviews, with several descriptions of erotic interactions between the dancers and the more receptive women in the audience. There were too many similar reports on different websites for this not to be true! Becci sat quivering on her favourite Lelo as she read the more graphic posts and imagined herself centre-stage. She desperately wanted to visit and to be chosen. She would make sure that she was chosen!

She behaved like a shameless hussy on the Eurostar, encouraging Paul to slip his hand under her dress and discretely touch her intimately. As his fingers explored her, she whispered in his ear, asking him what he wanted to do her and making some suggestions of her own.

By the time they arrived at Gare du Nord Becci was dripping. She shamelessly pressed her body against Paul on the Métro, kissing his neck and lips, and squeezing his buttocks. By the time they reached their hotel he was so hard walking was difficult.

Paul tried to nail her as soon as the porter left them in their room. Becci desperately wanted him inside her, but she had other plans that she didn't want to spoil. She kissed him, but resisted his advances and whispered, "Later, after I've showered for you!"

As they sipped the champagne Becci had preordered, she showed Paul a few reviews of Theatre Chochotte and suggested they pay the club a visit. He readily agreed. They had a deluxe room on the fourth floor, with a balcony overlooking the Eiffel Tower. He watched her intently as she opened the window blinds and balcony door, then selected her silk wrap dress, stockings and suspender belt and draped them over a chair by the open door. She kissed him and headed for the bathroom, "I'll only be ten or twenty minutes."

Becci showered her body from the neck down, giving particular attention to her intimate areas. She fixed her hair and touched up her makeup before returning to their bedroom. She walked towards the balcony, naked and on her tip toes, as if in heels. She posed, pretending to take in the view, wondering how many people could see her.

Standing at the threshold of the open balcony door, she smiled at Paul, "Honey, a bra and panties would just get in the way, don't you think?" Paul now had his seeping cock in his hand. Becci posed gracefully in full view of overlooking apartments and a boutique hotel. She fitted her suspender belt and then slowly pulled her silk stockings up each leg in turn, smoothing the fine material over her shapely legs, and clipping them to her suspenders.

She turned back to Paul, "Would you be a sweetheart and help me with my heels?" His cock was twitching as he knelt before her. Becci placed a hand on his shoulder for support and presented each stocking clad foot to him in turn as he slipped her four-inch heels on. His hands were trembling as he closed the last buckle. He suddenly buried his face between her thighs. Becci slung one leg over his shoulder, presenting herself to him. His lips were immediately on her bare pussy, his tongue exploring her slit.

Paul desperately wanted to please her, but she had teased him incessantly for hours. He couldn't last much longer! He pulled her to the floor and nailed her. Within barely one minute he erupted insider. "Shit, sorr... Hmph... Ahh... Sorry honey... I... I just had to! I couldn't last any longer." A wide and open smile spread across Becci's face as she hugged and kissed him, "No, no, you were perfect, you are perfect!"

Becci spread her legs open before him and soaked up his cum oozing from her with a few tissues. She scurried into the bathroom to clean herself properly, then returned to pull her dress on. Perhaps out of habit, she closed the balcony door and window blinds. Paul was soon ready and they left for the evening.

Becci felt as if all eyes were on her as they walked along Rue Saint André des Arts. She was wearing a true wrap dress, designed to allow a spectacular unveiling and a quiet redressing. She often thought that it would be perfect for an illicit affair!

She had left the inner ties open; her dress was held closed only by a single silk belt. Much more of her body was exposed than the dressmaker intended. The full inner curves of her breasts were clearly visible, and when she turned so was the edge of an areola, and sometimes a nipple.

Once inside Théâtre Chochotte she descended the stairs to the seating area. With each step her dress parted exposing the full length of her slender legs to the guests seated below. She was unsure if anyone saw more than her pale thighs above her stockings, but she certainly had their attention.

Paul led Becci to sit just off-centre in the back row. As the girls stripped and entertained the audience he stroked the side of her breasts. Already aroused, he ran his hand along her soft inner thigh and over her stocking tops to her bare pussy. Several men were clearly more interested in watching her, and what she was obediently letting Paul do to her, than the show.

Becci blushed when Paul began to finger her, but she submitted herself to him. She trembled and quivered as he spread her sex juices oozing from her entrance around her labia and over her swollen clit. Those around could clearly see his hand moving between legs under her dress. Her nipples stiffened, beautifully outlined under the thin silk of her dress.

There were just two rows of seats and the dancers mingled with the audience. The first girl had already stripped to just her heels when she approached Becci and whispered "Puis-je?" She then cupped Becci's little tits and traced the outline of her engorged nipples. She let her fingers run down Becci's breast as she pulled away and lay along the back of the seats directly in front of her.

The dancer's eyes were soon back on Becci and she took her hand, placing it on her own small but perfectly formed tit. As Becci touched her she writhed and moaned for the audience. A true pro! She smiled coyly as Becci squeezed and caressed her breasts, and teased her nipples.

Becci kept the dancer's gaze to make sure she didn't cross a line, then ran her hand down the girl's body, over her mons and down her leg. Becci's fingertips glided along her inner thigh and briefly glanced her slit; the little harlot let out a staccato sigh and raised her pelvis towards Becci. The men watched in jealous lust. A girl sitting in the far corner with her man looked visibly shocked and awkwardly crossed her arms and legs, declaring that she was off-limits.

Most of the other dancers singled Becci out for some attention, then the first returned. Becci resisted when she tried to lead her onto the stage, but she remained focused on her. Paul pulled the silk tie of Becci's dress open, smiling at the dancer and encouraging her. Everyone was staring at Becci. The young dancer looked back and forth between the audience and Becci, then slowly opened her wrap dress in a grand reveal, "Tres magnifique!"

The little harlot moved so sensually, trailing her nipples down Becci's body until she was crouched at her feet with her back arched. She fixed Becci's gaze and slowly opened her legs, placing one over Paul's knee and the other against the stranger beside her. Becci blushed as the dancer beckoned to him to assist by holding her leg against his. She burned crimson as the girl started to kiss her thighs, working up from her knees to above her stocking tops.

Becci's lips parted as she felt the beautiful young dancer's hot breath on her pussy and her hands running up and down her body. She glanced Becci's mons with the tip of her tongue and kissed her nipple as she stood up. Her gaze flicked back and forth between Becci and the other patrons, then she joined the audience in applause.

Becci desperately yearned to have a hard cock thrust inside her! She placed her hand on Paul's strained erection, and briefly looked at the groin of the man beside her, letting her leg fall carelessly against his once again. She could feel the warmth of his body, but he didn't take advantage of her arousal. Her mind ran wild with thoughts of being ravaged and penetrated, pinned to the stage and fucked in front of everyone. She whispered to Paul, "I need you inside me! Let's go!" As they left the dancers and some of the audience bid them au revoir.

Becci melted into Paul's arms as they walked along the street towards La Seine. Her pussy wept as his hand slipped inside her wrap dress and caressed her naked body underneath. She pulled him down the steps to the lower path running alongside the river, and under Pont Saint Michel. They stopped partially hidden just under the edge of the far side of the bridge, with a view of Notre-Dame.

Becci kissed Paul passionately, and struggled with his zip until she managed to free his cock. She then gripped his toned buttocks with one hand, and pulled his foreskin back and forth over the glans of his penis with the other. A few groups and couples passed by, but they held each other close, hoping that they just looked like lovers kissing. She whispered: "Take me... As soon as it's quiet."

So much precum had oozed from Paul's cock she knew she daren't remove her hand for fear of staining her silk dress. Finally they were momentarily alone, "Open my dress again, like in the club.". Becci sat back on the cool stone seat behind her, with the leaves of her dress hanging either side of her. The moment his cock stretched her aching vagina open she whispered, "Oh sweet Jesus!" Paul thrust into her, filling her! He was so hard and tense.

Paul slammed the full length of his gorgeous cock into her, furiously fucking her. A familiar sex flush spread across her upper chest, neck and cheeks. His pace quickened and the force increased with each stroke. Any attempt at discretion was abandoned! An orgasm gripped Becci as her sex flush intensified, burning red-hot. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his buttocks, repeatedly pulling him into her as hard as she could.

Paul finally slammed into her one last time and came buried deep in her; a short but intense fuck. Becci clung to him, holding him inside her, until the sound of approaching footsteps startled them. She quickly wiped herself with a tissue, noting the strategically placed bins, and fixed her dress just as a couple appeared at the far side of the bridge.

Becci and Paul climbed the steps to street level on their side of Pont Saint Michel, only to realise there was a group of lads standing at the top. Their glances and laughter confirmed her fears. She could only take small steps, not just because of her high heels, but she was trying to retain the last of his cum as she felt it trickle from her. Jesus, how much did he pump into her! Blushing and giggling she buried her face in Paul's chest.