CHAPTER 19: The Virgin Unleashed, Part 4
Michael is quite skilful, and I suspect he has some kind of training in this.
“You’ve done this before?”
“I have indeed. I’m actually a trained masseur and I’m rather conscious that we’ve asked a lot of you over the last few days. So now it’s your turn. Relax. I’ll ask you to lie on your stomach in a bit, but right now, enjoy your wine.”
It is easy to enjoy the wine. Michael works his way up my body. I suspected when I first saw him, with his muscular physique, that he did some kind of manual work, but this never occurred to me. As he works on individual muscles in my legs, I examine him, admittedly now through a slightly alcoholic haze. His whole body is tough and muscular, but his hands, in particular, are well developed, both strong and gentle, as he manipulates my body.
He presses a thumb against a tight calf and I wince. “Take it easy, girl. I’m going to work these knots out of you.”
His massage is not entirely functional. I can feel the good he is doing as he works my lower legs, but as he reaches my thighs he says softly, almost whispers, “Open your legs a little.”
As he works my long thigh muscles, fingers smoothing over skin moved deeply by the heel of his hand, he does not roam to my sex. Nonetheless, he holds my eyes as his hands quest nearby. Desire begins to pool in my stomach.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he says. “I’ll wash my hands before I wander around there again. Some things are meant for external use only.”
He has a deep, male voice. Smooth as cream. Silky as satin. Why did I never notice it so much before?
“Lie down, flat on the bed,” he instructs.
I obey and he swings a leg over so he straddles me. I can’t help but watch his cock nestling in its nest, quiescent now with his mind on other things. A fine line of gold hairs leads upwards to his navel and taut, flat stomach.
My mind is not on other things. Michael’s hands sweep soft glory across my stomach then, as he glances backwards for a moment, stray onto my breasts. He hitches himself forward a little before I suddenly realise what is happening. There is a second pair of hands on my thighs.
My Master’s voice rumbles up from below. “Raise your knees Charlotte.” As I do so, they are eased apart. Warm breath flows across my inner thighs and inwards, my pussy practically vibrating under the heat.
Michael has ceased any pretence of massaging me. Instead, he is leaning forward over me, playing demon on my breasts. Crouched on all fours over my stomach, his lips are fastened over one nipple, teasing it with his teeth, nibbling ever so gently and sending electric shocks down through my core with every bite.
A second pair of lips fastens onto my clit. A finger has pulled back the hood, and a gentle suckling at my bud alternates with a tongue, winding ever tighter coils of arousal around it.
I gasp and tremble as cascading waves of pleasure ripple through me. The scent of Michael’s hair, the sweet musky perfume of male sweat, flows over me. Long, slow strokes of my Master’s tongue, from my pussy, up through the lips, and sweeping over my engorged clit are sending irresistible signals to my inner sex.
A kind of slow, ever-building rush, spreads from my core. Not fast. Not sudden. But unmistakable and not to be denied.
My hips quiver and shake under the onslaught. My breath, rough and ragged, struggles for space with the moans escaping me.
Michael pinches my nipples, hard. One between each thumb and finger, the pain-pleasure courses down through my body like a cataract. Heat gushes from my pussy, and I writhe and twist, unable to move far, my body caged by Michael’s.
A tongue invades my steaming cunt, painting circles of heat inside. A wild, feral, climax arises from within, and takes me.
I scream, bucking and jerking. Head flung back, eyes tight closed, my orgasm is seismic. Hands take firm hold of my thighs, pinning me as the tongue in my cunt takes me far on my inner journey. Michael drops his weight onto me, pinning me further as I try to escape-envelop-enjoy-ride this screaming climax. On and on it goes.
Finally, I find the words, “Stop. Stop. For God’s sake stop. I can’t take any more.”
The tongue withdraws and Michael sits up straight, astraddle my hips.
“That seemed to be a good one,” he laughs.
I have used up my available supply of words. Speechlessly I nod as my Master arises behind Michael, his long lean face wearing a ‘cat-that-got-the-cream’ smile.
Michael takes on a more business-like air. “Come on. Let’s finish that massage you were having.”
“So, Charlotte. It is our final day together tomorrow.”
Stretched out on my back, my Master is lying beside me, stroking my stomach and left breast, as we keep company together on the bed in his beautiful mirrored room. Candles glimmer and their multiple reflections cast a gloried shimmering light.
Michael, on the other side of me, is suckling at my right breast, a free hand stroking at my thigh.
We are not exactly in lustful mood, more sensual: occupying a kind of sexual hinterland resulting from several days of roller-coaster, carnal adventure after I auctioned myself and my virginity to my Master.
I am not a Virgin anymore.
“Yes, Master. Our final day.”
“I hope you have enjoyed our time together? No regrets?”
“No Master. It’s been wonderful. You - and Michael - have opened my eyes; changed my view of the world.”
Michael chuckles through his mouthful of my right nipple. My Master smiles. “I can imagine. To have been through your miserable non-marriage... I know it wasn’t your fault, but there must surely have been times when you questioned yourself?”
Sighing, “Yes, that’s true. There were times when I wondered if it was me. Was I so unattractive that my own husband wouldn’t or couldn’t…”
My Master taps me lightly on the breast. “No!” His word is sharp, but his voice gentle. “Not true, Charlotte. Unattractive? You are beautiful. Truly beautiful. Do you seriously think I would have paid what I did if you weren’t? Girls in sore need of money are not that hard to find, you know.”