Buying the Virgin

Chapter 90: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Six

CHARLOTTE

Michael smiles and settles, wineglass in hand, simply watching me, gazing at me as though there is nothing else in the world to look at.

After a while, it becomes a bit embarrassing. “Um, I’m not going to dissolve if you look away, you know.”

My Master snorts a laugh. “You’ll have to forgive him, Charlotte. Michael has worked every waking hour on the house since the day he got the keys. He’s been looking forward to your arriving here.”

I reach out a hand to each of them, holding fingers. “Me too. I did as much work as I could back at college so that we could enjoy being together.”

I see that eye-lock thing they have, their eyes meeting, and I know that I’m about to be fucked six ways to Tuesday….

And Michael’s only just……

Then my Master looks at me, his lips curved in that almost-smile of his, and jerks his thumb towards the bedroom. “In there, I think, Madam.”

The bedroom is warmer now, the heat of the kitchen range percolating through the wall. I stand next to the bed, sandwiched between them.

Michael looks down at me. “Strip,” he says.

Strip? He’s never put it like that before.

“Strip?”

My Master leans close. “Michael wants to get his cock into your mouth, and I want to fuck your cunt, so…. strip.”

And my pussy floods.

Their eyes meet again. Both smiling, they look smug, having obviously pre-arranged this between themselves. I could neck them when they do that, but my pussy is growling for attention, and they both know it.

Business-like, I strip, pulling off layers of pullovers, removing boots, jeans and thick socks. Neither of them makes a move, or touches me, until, as I stand naked before them, suddenly they lunge, grabbing me by the arms, and they pull me, shrieking with laughter, onto the bed.

Michael pinning my arms over my head, my Master produces rope from his pocket, tying my hands, tethering me to posts of the bedhead.

he had it

Of course, he has….

pulled back down the mattress, the two of them tugging me at the ankles until my arms

to

……again….

end of the bed, where I can see them both, they undress, each looking down at me; my Master with his non-smiling smile, eyes crinkled at the corners, Michael, soft-eyed, his smile, very white against his tanned

tight-waisted, with a fine scattering of dark hair over his chest, that narrows to a tight line leading below his belt, he kicks off shoes, peels off

over his head, and off. Not so tall as my Master,

on me, making me wait as I quiver

from his pocket; a black silk scarf. I have

they planned

a pillow behind my head, he props me up a little, then binds

please…. don’t make

pressing a finger to my

me; his clean scent of pine and spice washing over me in waves as he moves. He straddles my chest, massaging my shoulders and

hot breath washes

broach my pussy, testing my wetness I think, then withdraw.

of their non-speaking

Yup.

from atop me, lying alongside instead. He nibbles at a nipple, sending electric dancing along nerve-endings to tantalise my clit. Simultaneously, teeth tug

this. Despite my earlier tumble with Michael, several weeks of almost complete abstinence have left me primed. Already ascending a short spiral to orgasm, I smile to myself at the thought of how much of this

Michael softly. “We must be doing something right,

I reach with my face, trying to find him, and his lips meet

kiss, his fingers pluck and tease at my puckered nipples, and my clit is being gently tortured by another warm

a-tremble, my pussy begins to shudder, the heat within blooming outwards into orgasm and…

the mouth leaves mine,

my orgasm recedes and fades,

two of them go silent,

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