Buying the Virgin

Chapter 42: The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Forty-Two

A surge of tension; a suspenseful moment, as my pussy tightens and flexes; then, undulating waves of

pressure and pleasure and heat, that pulse through cunt and belly and thighs, in a rush that spirals

upwards and outwards, leaving me bucking and writhing under my Master’s body, trying to cry out.

Michael pulls away from me, giving me the freedom to bawl out my orgasm.

The pulsing of my pussy, I think, sends my Master into climax. He growls, pressing in hard against me,

shuddering as he cums.

As I relax, Michael ploughs back into my mouth with an urgency that tells me….

…and he grunts and spurts, his thick cream briny and hot, as it spills over my tongue and teeth. I suck

gently, extending the moment for him as long as I can, before, with a gasp, he pulls himself out of me.

“Enough, Charlotte! A body can only stand so much.” But his voice is gentle, and still, he strokes my

face, lacing his fingers into my hair.

Still with my Master deep inside me, I say, “Thank you. That was wonderful.”

“And so it should be, Charlotte.” My Master’s silken voice is warm. “It is not every woman who is

simultaneously fucked by the two men who love her most in the world.”

What do I say?

So, I say nothing, simply reaching with one hand to stroke Michael’s thigh. And with the other, reach

back to touch my Master.

The moment is a long one….

….until…. “Master, um, Michael’s right. A body can only stand so much. Could you please take out that

vibrator…”

Both men laugh, and my Master, withdrawing, slaps my butt again as he stands.

“Now,” he says. “We’re on vacation. Time to eat I think. Where shall we go to celebrate?”

*****

The following morning, I wake, blinking open, to find my Master watching me, soft-eyed, head propped

on a hand on the pillow beside me. He says nothing, but winds a lock of my hair around a finger then

traces the outline of my lips with the finger.

He kisses me, very softly, his lips barely touching mine, and I glow inside.

The silence is broken by a groan; Michael’s voice.

“Ah fuck! What are you doing to me Charlotte? I’ve woken up again with a fucking hard-on. The fucking

thing’s levering me off the fucking bed.”

I crease up with laughter, then lie back, spreading my legs. “Climb on board Michael. Get it out of your

system.”

*****

“I thought,” says my Master, “that since this is to be our last night in the city for a while, we might go to

the club. How do you feel about that Charlotte?”

The last time my Master suggested this, at first, I went into a blue funk at the mere idea. I’ll not be

doing that again.

“Sounds good to me, Master.”

“Michael?”

My blond-haired lover just grins in reply.

My Master claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Good. We’re agreed. Charlotte, is there, um,

anything particular, you would like to do there?”

“Well, it’s just going to be the three of us for a few weeks, isn’t it? We can relax and enjoy being with

each other. I think for this evening, I’d like something…. intense…”

My Master raises an eyebrow. “That’s an… interesting… choice of word; ‘intense’?”

“Yes Master, intense.”

He and Michael lock eyes for a moment. Michael spreads his hands in a kind of ‘Well what can you

do?’ gesture.

“Very well Charlotte. Intense it is.”

*****

We step into the hub-bub of the club, the three of us, Michael and my Master flanking me, either side. I

am wearing the gorgeous dress they bought me for the last time we visited, and I luxuriate in the

feminine sway and sparkle of the beautiful fabric. It shimmers like black diamonds in the evening

lighting. Haltered at the neck, gathered below my breasts, it is held in place by a mere two buttons at

the back of the halter.

Faces turn as we enter, calling ‘Hellos’ to my Master and Michael, and this time to me. I am recognised

now. Groups invite us to join them. We make small talk, exchange pleasantries and move on.

Michael becomes somehow separated, drawn for conversation into another knot of people. He draws

the eye, does my Golden Lover, and I see women, and some men, eyeing him speculatively.

My Master speaks quietly by my ear. “He has never had any problems getting partners Charlotte. But

he wants you.”

Then he steers me to the bar, ordering me a large drink. “Um, I’m not sure I want another drink, Master.

I’ve already had quite a lot.”

He glances sideways at me. “You asked for ‘intense’. You’re going to get it. I suggest you have the

extra drink.”

Stomach fluttering, I gulp down a heady cocktail, wondering what my Master has planned.

Be careful what you wish for….

My Master mutters to me, eye-pointing across the room. “I think Michael would like to be rescued.

Marcie is trying to get her claws into him.”

Through a tangle of people, Michael is looking imploringly in my direction. Marcie, whom I have

previously met, and disliked immediately, is pressing up close to him. Backing away from her, he is

clearly trying to be polite, but she has him cornered between the bar and an overly large potted palm.

“He doesn’t like her?”

“No more than I do. Go on, give him some moral support.”

Unexpectedly, I find my hackles rising. Is it because already, I don’t care for Marcie? Because Michael

doesn’t? Or, I try to analyse my feelings, is it because another woman is making a move on Michael?

Michael is mine…

Relief washes over his face as he sees me approach, giving him an excuse to look in another direction

and to slide out from his trap between the bar and this brash woman.

As he breaks loose, her head swings in my direction, her expression briefly sour as she sees me, but

then a saccharine smile washes over her features. Marcie should be pretty, but her unsubtle

deviousness robs her of all charm.

“Oh, hello Charlotte. How nice to meet you again. We were all so concerned when you had to be

carried out last time.”

“I was fine, Marcie, thank you. It was my first time here, and I just got over-excited.” Taking Michael’s

arm, I pull him in close

Marking my territory?

A stranger joins us.

I don’t know him, but his manner says he is with Marcie. “So, you’re the famous Charlotte. I’ve been

dying to meet you. Anyone who can keep Michael and James on their toes must be worth knowing.” Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

His implication is obvious, but he makes my skin crawl.

“Why don’t you and Michael, or the three of you, join us?” he invites, gesturing towards a darkened

room.

“Thanks, Steve, but we already have plans for this evening,” says Michael.

Thank God. It occurs to me that I do not want my ‘intense’ experience to be with these two.

Michael gives my arm a surreptitious squeeze, drawing me in my Master’s direction. Across the room,

he is watching us carefully.

“Aw, c’mon,” says Marcie, pawing at Michael. “It’ll be fun.”

He politely steps back from her again, taking me with him. But the two follow us, crowding our space.

‘Steve’ strokes my arm and I flinch. “I’d certainly like to get to know you better, Charlotte.”

“Yes, Charlotte. We all want to know what it is you do, that keeps these two hooked…”

Who does this bitch think she is?

Michael has already said ‘No.’ And her nasty Partner/Master can keep his uninvited hands off me.

My Master is working his way across to us, his expression alarmed, but, across the crowded floor, he is

struggling to get through.

Abruptly, Steve grabs me by the hand, tugging me towards the room he indicated.

Surely this isn’t how it’s meant to work? Everyone should agree to these things….??

“Come on, Charlotte. Let’s all have some fun.”

I panic.

As Steve pulls me towards him, his grin smug, with my free hand, I swing and punch, catching him

squarely on the nose. The cartilage cracks under my knuckles, and with a roar he staggers back, and

falls to the floor, nose streaming blood.

Oh God! What have I done?

Fired up with nerves and adrenaline, I stand panting, then look around at the crowd, all turning to see

what the excitement is, ready for a fight.

Suddenly, there is a single clap of the hands, which turns into a ripple of applause.

“Good for you…”

“That showed him.”

“He always was a pushy bastard.”

Sympathy for Steve is at zero. He scrambles up, Marcie trying to wipe his face with a tissue. She

shoots me a toxic look, as the two make their way towards the bathrooms.