CHAPTER 34: The Virgin’s Valentines, Part 3

“I see you don’t know what to choose.”  My Master passes me several playing cards. Not a full pack, just the Ten, Knave, Queen, King and Ace of Hearts. I look at them blankly. “Master?”

“We going to play a game Charlotte, and you are the prize. You will shuffle and deal the cards. You will give each of us a card. When it is time for a new…um… participant, you will call a card. The holder of that card takes a turn.

I shuffle the cards, carefully, ensuring they are random. One at a time, I give each man a card, face down. None of them knows who has which card.

"Sit up Charlotte,” my Master orders.

Scrambling to my knees on the edge of the bed, I obey my Master.

“Although the cards will decide who, we…” he indicates the group, and as he speaks, produces a blindfold.  “...are going to decide when, and how, we will have you.” He plays with the blindfold, a sheer, delicate thing of black, that will bind snugly about my face.

He ties it, fitting it closely to my eyes. It is not tight, not painful, but all I can see is a dim glow of light filtered through the fine fabric. A part of me wants to smile, but another part is taking over, and my heavy breathing is turning to panting, my blood beginning to sing, my pulse to race.

I feel, rather than see, the motion of the mattress under me as my Master seats himself next to me. “We may remove the blindfold in a little while, Charlotte. I know you always enjoyed this room, enjoyed watching Michael and I with you, in the mirrors. But for now, you will have to guess what is happening, or what will happen next.

As he speaks, his hand is sliding over my pale skin, across my shoulders, down from my neck, to the smoothness of my breasts.

“Take it off her,” says a voice; the American I think.

“Charlotte,” says the voice of my Master. “Stand up.”

Struggling a little in my sightlessness, nonetheless, I obey, and he continues. “Michael. Why don’t you undress Charlotte? Let her admirers see what they are going to fuck.”

At his words, my pussy heaves and wells once more. My Master is giving me to these men... but that is his privilege.

A rustle of movement and then, close to me, the familiar scent of my wonderful Michael, my Golden Angel, my Lover. His fingers slip into the fine shoulder straps of my cami and close to my ear he whispers “Are you all right Charlotte?”

Through my panting, to speak is a struggle. “Yes, Michael. I’m fine.” and I turn, to briefly kiss the face so close to mine. He returns the kiss, soft and warm, his lips pressed to mine before, his hands on my shoulders, he slips aside the shoulder straps. They fall, to dangle over my arms.

Then, another movement, and he is behind me, pressing close. He is still fully dressed, but through his clothing, I feel the pressure of his hardened cock against my body.

He reaches around me with strong arms, tugging carefully at the fine laces to the front of the cami, teasing them apart so that the filmy garment falls open.

I know what the men can see. I am very pale-skinned, narrow-waisted, and my breasts large. As he releases them from the cami, my breasts swing free, the nipples tightening and crinkling.

Michael’s hands continue their work, sliding the whole silky garment down, past my waist and hips, to puddle at my feet. “Step out of it Charlotte,” whispers Michael.

I lift one foot and then the other, sensing Michael’s movement, as he bends to take it from under me.

I stand, fully naked, before my audience of ‘Valentines’.

St Valentine - the Patron Saint of Love - physical love? I wonder if he guessed what he started?

I stand straight, tilt my chin up. I have done this before when I auctioned my virginity. The best way to behave in such a situation is to be proud. Pulling my shoulders back, my flaming hair tumbles in a cloud, around my shoulders and down to my waist. My stomach, gently curved to the fox at my loins, my long legs, well-exercised; I need no false modesty. I look good. I know that every man in the room wants to get inside me.

And is going to…

Michael still stands close behind me, his hands cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my puckering nipples. I know that I am being displayed. Then his fingers tweak at my already hard nubs, and I startle, yelping slightly.

“Jeez,” says a voice. “Who gets first go?”

Michael’s strong hands, hard and muscular, slightly rough, glide over my body. My waist, the curve of my belly. One slips further south. The other returns to its gentle torment of my nipple.

Fingers wriggle through my damp curls, probe between my thighs. “You’re very wet Charlotte,” he says.

My hips are beginning to judder. Michael’s touch has always been magical, the skilled touch of a masseur. A single finger is stroking my clit, and my knees begin to give.

Abruptly, his arm is around my waist, supporting me. “Too far, too fast, eh Charlotte.” he murmurs, laughter in his voice.

Then my Master is close by. “Time for a change of pace, I think.” His hands rest on my shoulders, exerting a gentle downward pressure. “On your knees, Charlotte.”

Blindfold as I am, to kneel is a little awkward, but hands support me from either side, balancing me as I descend. With excitement, and nerves, I am becoming very hot, my skin flushing. Biting my lip, I await... what?

“Charlotte,” says my Master. “Pick a card out of the five I showed you.”

“Knave of Hearts, Master.”

“Who has the Knave of Hearts?”

“I do,” says a voice. and there is a rustling noise. For a moment, I cannot identify it, but then hear the rasp of a zipper, the soft whoosh of clothes falling to the floor, followed by other assorted ‘getting undressed’ noises.

“So, little Lady. Where do you want me? Mouth or pussy?”

My Master’s voice interrupts. “It is not Charlotte’s choice. You decide what happens now.”

“Well, in that case, open your mouth, Charlotte.”

I part my lips, licking them nervously. My breasts rise and fall with my rapid breathing, and as a warm cockhead pushes at my lips, I taste the salty-sweet beadlet oozing from the tip.

“Lick it off Charlotte,” says the voice. “Lick me clean, for now anyway. You’ll have a lot more than that to swallow in a while.” He strokes the top of my head. “Tell me Charlotte. Do you like to be face-fucked?”