Victoria found her room, opened the door, and collapsed on the bed. A lingering horniness permeated her body; she was determined to address that issue despite John's stern warning otherwise.
I'll rest for five minutes--then I'll buzz off. In my present state that shouldn't take more than a minute or two. He'll never know.
Sleep overtook Victoria, depriving her of an opportunity to act on her urges. When she awoke she checked her watch and found that she had just enough time to rinse the sweat and grime off her body before her massage, hair, and nails appointments in the hotel spa.
I could skip the massage. That would give me an extra hour. Fuck that! There's no way I'm missing my massage after the hell I've gone through today.
Four hours later, Victoria returned to her room coiffed, made up, and fully refreshed.
All I have to do now is to slip into my dress--and I've got almost an hour to do it. Hmm, should I?
Victoria dropped her robe on a chair, applied her perfume, and then removed a small vibrator from her suitcase. She propped some pillows against the headboard and then sat on the bed with her knees up and her legs spread apart. She dipped a finger into her slit, and then caressed her clit with two fingers. Within seconds her juices were flowing. She dipped a finger inside her warm tunnel a second time, and then reached for the vibrator. Just as she switched it on, there was a knock at the door.
God damn it!
She was tempted to ignore the knocking, but she was afraid that John may have arrived early. The person knocked a second time.
"Who is it?" Victoria called.
"It's the concierge," a voice answered. "I have a delivery for Mrs. Wellingford."
"I'll be right there," she answered.
What the hell could that be?
Victoria put on robe and opened the door. A hotel employee was standing in the hallway with a vase containing two dozen orange roses.
"Mrs. Wellingford?" the concierge asked.
"Yes."
"These are for you."
"How lovely."
Victoria stepped back so the concierge could enter the room. He set the vase on a table in front of the window, then turned toward the door. He paused for a second when he saw the vibrator on the bed sitting next to the stack of pillows.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the concierge smirked as he reached for the door handle. "And enjoy your evening, Mrs. Wellingford. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know. I'm happy to be of service."
"Thank you." Victoria blushed as she closed the door behind him.
So much for that idea. I had best finish getting ready before John arrives.
Victoria located the small envelope attached to the bouquet of roses. She opened it and pulled out the card.
"Be amazing."
Aww, Lincoln is so sweet. He must be planning to be really bad tonight, if he's encouraging me to have a good time. Wait a second, this can't be from Lincoln. He doesn't know where I am. He won't know until I get home tomorrow and I tell him. But if not Lincoln, then who? John?
Victoria put on dress, stepped into her shoes, touched up her make-up, and then sat in a chair near the flowers. She sat for twenty minutes, checking and rechecking her make up while she counted down the time. At 7:58 she felt her heartbeat getting louder. At 7:59 it felt like a bass drum was beating in her chest. At 8:00 her mouth was dry and she was having trouble breathing. She stood up, walked to the door and peered through the peephole.
Nothing.
She paced back and forth, her anxiety rising with every second.
At five after eight there was a knock. Victoria hurried to the door and threw it open. John was standing in the hallway wearing a black tuxedo and carrying a wrapped package. He whistled his approval when he saw Victoria standing in her black gown. The floor-length dress was slit to her hips on both sides. The sheer bodice was practically see-through, revealing her breasts and nipples to anyone who looked for more than a second.
"Come in," Victoria said. "I've been waiting."
John stepped through the doorway, kissed Victoria on the forehead, and then handed her the package.
"This is for you."
"First flowers, and now a present," Victoria said as she took the package. "Aren't you the gentleman?"
"You might want to reserve judgement until you've seen what's inside."
Victoria untied the ribbon and tore off the paper. She lifted the lid from the box and looked inside. Her brow creased and her face flushed as she removed the contents of the package.
"What the hell is this for?" she asked, holding up a clamshell package similar to the one she opened in the woods earlier.
"That, my dear, is the final piece of your wardrobe. Let's put that in you."
John took the contents from her and tore open the plastic packaging. He went to the bathroom, ran some water, and returned a few seconds later.
"Bend over," he commanded.
Resigned to her fate, Victoria walked to the bed, spread her feet, and bent at the waist.
"Nice," John said as he flipped the sheer skirt over her waist. "You aren't wearing panties."
"In prior years I found that it's a waste of time. They don't stay with me very long, and I usually end up losing them. Why bother?"
"Good point."
John pulled a tube of silicon lube from his pocket, squirted some into the crack of Victoria's ass, and then smeared some more onto the surface of the butt plug. He placed the tip against Victoria's asshole and pushed.
Victoria felt a familiar pressure in her backside. She relaxed and allowed the tip to enter her. She soon felt her asshole stretching to accommodate the invading presence. Fullness gave way to discomfort as the plug continued to push the limits of her anus.
"Ungh. Hey! That feels..."
"Bigger? The smaller one was just to loosen you up a little without making you too uncomfortable. You're going to be aware of this one."
Great. That's all I need--my asshole stretched so wide I can't even fart.
John twisted and pushed. Victoria took a deep breath and then let it out slowly as the fat end of the plug reshaped her rectum. She put her head down and willed her sphincter to relax while the last inch of soft plastic stretched her open more than she had ever been stretched before. She gasped when the notched end slid into place.
"Whew. That's...there. Can you help me up?"
John helped Victoria to her feet, and then led her to the door.
"Got your card key?" he asked.
"It's right here," she answered. "Do you want to hold it for me? We're probably going to end up back here before the night is over."
John took the card key from her and placed it inside his jacket pocket. He closed the door, held out his arm, and escorted Victoria to the elevator.
"You're going to have to walk a little slower," Victoria said. "Between these heels and that thing you put in my ass, I can't move too quickly."
"As you wish, my lady."
John and Victoria took the elevator to the Mezzanine level where they found the ballroom. Upon entering the room, they were greeted by a regiment of club officers, senior members, invited guests, and the other Hunters. Each year the forty newest members participated in the Great Hunt, but the entire Chapter membership attended the Huntsman's Ball. It was easy enough to tell which were the Hunters and which were the senior members--the senior members were escorting women dressed in elegant ball gowns, while each Hunter wore on his arm the scantily clad trophy he bagged that morning. The honored guests were advised to leave their wives at home and to bring a date; some attended with their mistresses, others used the services of an escort agency. The Huntsman's Ball was no place to bring an uninitiated wife.
This was Victoria's fifth Huntsman's Ball, and she had grown accustomed to the affair. She surveyed the room, admiring the dresses of the other women, and noting with surprise the rugged handsomeness of the Chicago men.
They don't seem to be quite as well-mannered as the Atlanta or Dallas men, nor as smooth and sophisticated as the Florida or New York men, but they are every bit as good looking. We could be in for quite an evening.
An orchestra in the front of the room played swing music while the guests mingled. John guided Victoria to one of two bars set up at opposite ends of the room. Before they reached it, however, a waiter came by with a bottle of champagne and a tray of flutes.
"I'll have champagne, if you don't mind," Victoria said.
"By all means," John replied.
John stopped the waiter and removed two flutes from the tray. He held them while the waiter poured from a chilled bottle of
Dom Perignon.
"What shall we drink to, mighty hunter?" Victoria asked.
"To a night of surprises," John answered.
"That certainly sounds ominous."
"This is going to be a night that neither of us will ever forget."
"I don't know whether I should be excited or afraid." Victoria looked up into John's dark eyes.
"I would say...both."
John tilted his head and smirked. He touched his glass against Victoria's, then drained it in one long swallow. Victoria took a sip from her glass, paused to savor the taste, and then took another small sip.
John led Victoria around the room, introducing her to the club officers and some of the honored guests. After the second circuit they took a seat at one of the round tables ringing the dance floor. They were soon joined by another Hunter and his scantily-clad trophy.
"Is anyone sitting here?" the man asked.
"Just the two of you," John answered. "Calvin, I want you to meet my trophy, Victoria. Victoria, this is Calvin."
"Pleased to meet you," Calvin said as he took Victoria's hand and gave it a kiss.
"I'm charmed," Victoria replied.
"John, this sexy little slut is Rochelle. Rochelle, this is my good friend, John."
