body heat

This novella is the seventh book in the Black Lace series and I hope you enjoy it.

catalogs

Deanna and Delia are twin sisters: one is a passionate, bold, forward-thinking painter; the other is a restrained, conservative, corporate-body management worker. On the surface, they appear to be completely different in every way except that they look exactly the same. In fact, after they enter the life of Jack, a major collector and successful businessman, they tacitly play the game of Gemini, frolicking in the erotic world of a trio of changing roles, and repeatedly probing their own deep-seated desires separately.

Chapter I. Art Lovers

Watching the droplets of freshly condensed water slowly slide down her glass, Deanna. Fidelo thought. “I can’t stand this sweltering heat any longer.” It was only May, May 30 to be precise, but the temperature, indoors and outdoors alike, was already unbearably hot.

Droplets of sweat flowed freely between her strands, caressing her like an unseen lover. And she didn’t want to imagine the sweat running thinly down to her pussy door, gathering there and making silky, silky noises. She felt her whole body as hot as the heat-filled gallery, yet in the thin grooves of her buttocks, as soft as peaches, its heat was almost volcanic.

“It must be this nasty picture show,” she thought with feeling. “This picture show is enough to make a single, librarian nun’s blood boil, let alone a horny little wretch like me!”

The fancy brochure “Erotic Phantasms – The Diggle Collection” is too flashy, but the word “erotic” makes it more subdued. The collector was a complete sexual deviant and a connoisseur of fine art and erotic works. Deanna had done a lot of research on nudes, so she knew that any work that was based on a bizarre inspiration was likely to be both. Deanna has had her share of such inspiration, but she hides the results in her pants drawer. But Jay. Kay. Diggle, the collector of these Rabelaisian works (note: Rabelais was a sixteenth-century French satirist known for his lowbrow humor), seems to enjoy showing archival photos of himself masturbating to the general public.

This exhibition has everything: masturbatory, successful, collective, obvious depictions of coitus, paraphilia and narcissism. It paints every wicked, perverted conception of all the dreams of an extremely indulgent man.

“Paints the dreams of a debauched woman, too, I guess.” Deanna thought, looking a little rushed, worried that someone had read her mind. There were times when Deanna did like the way she felt right now: the engorgement of her belly, the burning of her private parts, her extremely sensitive clitoris. But it wasn’t fun to feel this way alone, in public, and when there seemed to be no immediate opportunity for relief. She took a sip of her wine, hoping helplessly that that would quell her hunger, but it failed. She had an absurd urge to touch herself, right here, in the middle of this gallery, just to satisfy-even if only temporarily-this nasty, agonizing libido. This annoying lust had been haunting her ever since she’d told Jimmy that their wantonness was over.

“It’s your own fault, Deanna.” She told herself, taking another sip of her wine and trying to concentrate on the Mozart trio that served as background music. Only an idiot or a masochist would come to an exhibition of erotic paintings when their desires were unfulfilled and in pain. But what else can you do when one has had a birthday and is well fed?

Delia was the one who was supposed to come to the show tonight, after all, it was her name on the invitation. Having Deanna come in her place was just a way for the sisters to say sorry. Sorry for not spending their birthday with her like they used to.

Deanna wasn’t mad at her twin sister. She even felt sorry for her sister. While coming to see the exhibition of Diggle’s collection was a curbstomp of sexual desire, it was also far more fun than having dinner with the nasty, obnoxious Russell. Delia wondered what exactly she saw in him?

She made her way through a bunch of chattering celebrities to the next fairgrounds, but immediately almost regretted it. She saw a floor-to-ceiling, full-color picture of a man and a woman having coitus. And not one of those with clever shadow arrangements, unreal and beautiful. In that strung-flower steel frame, the man and woman were playing for real, really making love, their wet, glistening sex organs violently slamming together, “and the bare little recessed groove was right in the center of the picture.”

“Geez?” Deanna whispered, taking another sip of her drink. Just as the cold, crunchy taste filled her mouth, she had two thoughts. First, this was her third drink and she was already slightly drunk. Second, the picture made her feel even worse. Or better, depending on your point of view when looking at it. Booze and sex were tightly connected and inseparable in Deanna’s mind, and suddenly she wished she hadn’t broken up with Jimmy so hastily in the first place. She needed what they had, and even if Jimmy was an unimaginative piece of shit, at least he was good at simple, intense and consistently exciting sex.

Relying on her instincts of the artist’s imagination, Deanna put herself into the image before her. She saw a slim, well-built woman with dark hair, dark eyes and warm, apricot-colored skin. She was a simple woman with a great body & a heart-shaped, delicate face. Her eyes were large and bright, and her naturally rosy mouth pouted, begging to be kissed.

Deanna laughed at her own vanity, but began to clean herself up. She tugged at the thin black dress she wore, from her slender waist, and even her soft, curvy hips.

If it hadn’t been a little too tight in the chest, she would have been ninety-nine percent perfect with her black cotton dress. She’d actually known about the dress back when she’d first seen it at the market stall, but she’d liked it enough to try it on anyway. The owner of the stall, on the other hand, had spied on her through the curtains of the makeshift dressing room. He must have known from the cut of the dress that she wouldn’t be able to try it on in her underwear, and he also knew that he would have a free show to enjoy.

But for some reason, Deanna didn’t mind him peeking. She hated being happy, because in many ways, she liked being looked at. Especially when it was a witty looking roughneck like that boss.

Yet she couldn’t imagine Delia feeling the same way she did. Even in her taste in clothes. Old Indian cotton with whiskers and sequins, nothing like her sister. With a sudden pang of unease, Deanna wondered if she should have dressed a little more like the woman who was supposed to be there.

As far as faces were concerned, it was easy to resemble each other. She and Delia were supposed to be identical twins.

And their likenesses are so different that even their parents sometimes can’t tell them apart. Recently, however, their tastes in dress and behavior have become very different, which makes it easier to tell them apart. For an occasion like this, Delia might wear something elegant, light gray, very JeanMuir. Her hair would have retained its original luster and would not have been as wavy, kinky, and corn-colored as Diana’s. In addition, the sensible Delia would probably drink Pellegrino mineral water with lime to avoid delirium – never drink after drink, as if staying sober were out of fashion.

Suddenly Deanna couldn’t stand the crashing bodies in the photographs and decided to look at something else. Maybe something a little gentler, something that wouldn’t make her feel so needy.

But as she browsed through the catalog, she felt a very peculiar sensation surround her. On the back of her neck, tiny hairs of sweat all stood up with it. Two places saw a vague, dark figure slipping unconsciously into her left field of vision. She held her breath while something ghost-like seemed to reach out and caress her, slowly, very familiarly, as if the fingertips of an illusory man had slithered into her sexual nerves.

She looked to her left, extremely carefully and unobtrusively.

Just in front of the next display stood a man, carefully scrutinizing the piece of art. It was a man so dark, so sexually perfect, that he could have been an exhibit in person. Deanna controlled herself from looking at him greedily all the time and concentrated on her catalog. But once again, her mind’s eye struggled to start “imagining”. But this time she was thinking about him, not herself.

She gripped the shiny pamphlet tightly until even her knuckles turned white. She didn’t know why, but suddenly she felt that she, too, was on display. It was as if the man was reading her intently through her clothes, examining her nudity, although from whatever point of view, the man was actually looking at a brownish, sketched depiction of a masturbating woman.

“You’re fantasizing, Deanna,” she told herself, “He’s probably nothing special or even interesting.”

Yet, even as she said this, her skin grew hotter and hotter, and the red hao that rose from her face and neck crept unconsciously into her pussy. Her self-consciousness grew, and her breasts swelled, lewd and obvious under her too-tight clothes. She felt as if someone nearby was using X-rays on her body for lewd enjoyment, as she wore very little in terms of underwear – fear of the heat.

Suddenly, she smelled herself. Though she’d used rose-scented perfume when she’d gone out, next to the shadowy figure only a few dozen yards away, she seemed to smell only of musk, sensuality, and sweaty mattresses. A substance secreted by an animal for attention drowned out her faint perfume and seemed to drift around her like an invisible, courting mist.

Tiptoeing around as best she could, Deanna slipped out. The adrenaline rush was making her dizzy, and she needed a restroom or something where she could spritz on some perfume and try to cool her body down. Only then would she have the courage to go back to her dark and destructive stranger in. Taking another drink and resolving to stop pounding alcohol, she began to scan her surroundings. She didn’t see any obvious indicators to the restroom, but did spot a place to hide.

This gallery is a product of not-so-regular modernism, so no one else seems to notice that there is a terrace. At its height, it should be enough to look out over the entire room. From where Deanna stood now, it was almost difficult to see the higher parts, but if she stood on the white, bland terrace, the tops of many of the frames were visible. It was obvious that more artwork was displayed on that side of the wall, so Deanna decided to find her way up to that terrace to check it out.

It took her a few minutes to find the right staircase to go up, but when she got to the terrace she realized that the view was really disappointing.

Yes, there was a view of the gallery and a crowd of noisy, well-dressed “art lovers”, but the tall, dark and handsome gentleman was surprisingly missing.

“You see, Deanna,” she read in a low voice, “he’s gone. You should have accosted him long ago, but you passed up the chance, what a fool.”

“Hooked up with who?”

This voice beside her was soft and soft, and had a deceptive and raspy quality to it. Simply sexual, coming through human vocal cords, Deanna knew to whom the voice belonged. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned.

She had not for a moment been so impressed with him as she had been with him in person. She had earlier made a mental sketch of him, but what stood before her now was so perfect, a living masterpiece, far more beautiful and stimulating to the faculties than anything in this crazy, shitty exhibition of work.

“Who did you say you were going to hook up with?”

There was still blackness before Deanna’s eyes, but after a few seconds, all Deanna could do was stare at his smiling lips, his large, dark eyes, his hands, his body, his crotch. His thin black eyebrows lifted at the questioning and attempts to please. And it took what seemed like a century before she regained her voice.

“That’s you.” She said loudly, determined to be her usual, fearless self. He was pure lewdness personified, but she wasn’t afraid of him. She wanted him – yes, eagerly and surely – but didn’t fear him. Though deep inside her, a faint voice told her she should want it.

“Yes,” she continued as she turned around. Because of her panic, she had to speak whatever came to her mind.

“‘Hitting on’ is just a metaphorical expression, but you seem to be one of the few people here who are actually interested in the exhibit. So I thought it would be nice to ‘hit on’ you and exchange ideas. I’m an artist myself, so I’d like to compare notes with others …… and others about viewing the exhibit.”

She paused for a moment, a little flustered as she realized she was all alone in her chatter. He, on the other hand, continued his style of slow, forgiving smile.

“You are interested, aren’t you?”

“Of course! That’s what I do.” He spoke mysteriously and snapped his fingers with a very graceful movement, causing Deanna to notice his long, slender fingers, which were really well maintained. Suddenly she was fantasizing again, his hands deftly sliding over her body, finding her most sensitive parts, caressing her to orgasm after orgasm. She could almost see his toffee-colored hands already, covered in her bodily fluids.

“Is it true what you say?” She asked rudely, feeling the red hao rise again and dive into the same place again, the place that now craved the dark and strange man in front of her so much.

“Are you an artist yourself? Do you paint too? Or sketch?”

“No, unfortunately I don’t have much talent. I’m only responsible for admiring it.” He replied, his eyes traveling over her torso almost rudely. When their gazes met, she was struck by a deep, blue gaze. It wasn’t all due to that dewy desire, but she was surprised at the color of his eyes. For with his complexion, Deanna would have expected brown or gray eyes like hers.

The shape of his eyes was also unusual. On a white face, they are upward and oriental at the end of the eye, almost somewhat cat-like. They were very far apart and had black lashes, while at the same time there was a thin layer of folded skin at the inner corners of the eyes. This mysterious gentleman must have been of not too distant Oriental origin, and his inner eye-folds, peculiar to the yellow race, were the best proof of it.

His hair is also eastern. Brilliant black, and watery straight hair, combed into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The sheer unadulterated brilliance reminded Deanna of a seal-skin coat, but also almost at the same time, she revised her judgment. Seals were cute and playful, but this man was definitely not. He should be a shark or a king cobra, prowling ready to strike or hunt, smiling and deadly. Suddenly, she knew she should be afraid of him.

“Me too.” It took her a long time to respond. “He must think I’m a complete idiot.” She thought to herself, very upset that she hadn’t impressed him.

“Why don’t we get together.” She hadn’t meant anything special by saying that, but those deep eyes had seemed to start courting her as if she’d asked him to strip naked and make love to her. “That’s great.” He murmured contentedly and made a gesture toward the painting that had just affected her to the vantage point.

“God, this guy is so out of touch.” Deanna thought as she followed him. “A man who stimulates the libido with nothing new.” The first-rate “man in the dark” was posed like a statue in front of the gallery’s featureless white walls. The dark stranger scored full marks for both technique and artistic expression, although on closer inspection there were some minor but notable idiosyncrasies of style.

He was really tall. Using her five-foot-seven height as a measuring tape, Deanna estimated that he would be five-foot-eleven inches tall, and he was dark, too, not just with dark hair, but dark skin as well. His skin was as smooth as polished wood, and that perle olive color was another testament to his Far Eastern heritage.

Is he handsome? Yes, but not in the usual boring and conventional way. Her art-loving friend was a work of art in his own right. There was only one small blemish on his near-perfect looks, a thin white scar near his left temple, from his eyebrow to his hairline. This, along with the upturned corners of his eyes, was so oriental on a western face that it could have set a new and impeccable standard for manliness. The same could be said for his rosy, plump lips and his strong, straight nose, although there was a very slight and mischievous upturn to his nose.

Almost intuitively, she looked toward his groin, wondering what his penis looked like. She had never been very superstitious, but seeing his long, slender hands and steeply pointed nose, she couldn’t help but imagine that his manhood would have the same characteristics.

The thin, long, lewd glans would probe deep into the female, caressing her. He wore a pair of tight black leather pants with a firm bulge across them, which seemed to coincide with her reverie.

He should have noticed she kept looking at him too ……

He looked at the leather-covered waist and actually shook it upwards, slowly and infuriatingly. His smile wasn’t clear, but it was disgusting and self-satisfiedly masculine. Unashamedly, he was ogling her posture as well, just as carefully and thoroughly as she had just done, if not more so. Even though he was indeed handsome and carnal, Deanna would have gladly punched him in the mouth.

Men. Uniformly arrogant pigs …… even if they have good reason to be so.

“Seen enough?” She said with vengeance.

“No, not yet. But the night is still young ……” That smile turned into a distinct and brilliantly toothy grin. And it hit Deanna squarely in the stomach, as well as other, more critical areas. She felt hot, melted and penetrated.

“Come on, honey.” He took her empty hand. “Let’s just look at the rest of the stuff. The best exhibits are up here, and you and I have them all.”

He was surprised when their fingers met while Deanna smiled, enjoying the tiniest hint of superiority.

“You’re so warm,” he said. Grabbing her hand and stretching it out, he seemed to study it for a few moments as if it were a prized work of art. Then his fingertips began to caress her, from her wrist down to her bare shoulder. The long caress was so gentle and cold and comforting. But she knew that to him, her skin was hot. “Do you have a fever, or is it something else?” His deep, blue gaze pierced through her as if commanding her to answer that her heat was due to him.

Deanna didn’t want to let him get away with it. “I have a higher than normal body temperature. It’s a family trait and has nothing to do with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Realizing that she was still clutching a glass of wine, she raised it to her lips, ready to fortify herself.

But before she could drink it, this companion of hers took it and had a toast to make.

“Well then here’s to heat, especially hot women.” He whispered softly. He took a sip of her wine, his throat rippling sensuously before he lifted the glass to her lips, touching her mouth with its cool rim and forcing her to drink it.

Deanna’s stomach seemed to throb with something. No man had ever done this to her before, and usually they were a little intimidated by her. But this strange, dark man had her in submission within only a few minutes of their encounter. Obediently draining her drink, she stood there like a doll, waiting for him to quickly place the glass on the floor and stand up again, and wiping her lips lightly with his finger.

“What’s your name, fellow artist?” His soft voice was far more influential than the wine.

“Di-” she almost said, but just a millionth of a second before she got it all out, her internal alarm bells began to tinkle. “Maybe it doesn’t matter, but after all, it’s Delia who’s supposed to show up tonight!”

“Dee (Dee),” she replied after a moment’s reflection, “everyone calls me ‘Dee’.”

She wasn’t lying, everyone really did call her “Dee” and Delia was also called “Dee”. Especially when people weren’t sure if it was Deanna or Delia in front of them.

“Everybody calls me Jack,” her companion replied, and before she could prevent it put his arm round her shoulders and turned her full length towards the nearest exhibit. “So, Di, what do you think of this one?”

The “piece” was a horribly beautiful painting, one of the best she had seen in the gallery, and certainly one of the most disturbing. Especially here and now, with this brazen Jack, who kept touching her shoulder as if he were a longtime lover.

The “low wall” shows a masked woman bending forward over a low white wall made of plaster, held by a dark-haired, broad-shouldered man. The man’s disheveled jeans show that his front zipper is unzipped, but he is otherwise fully clothed. The woman, in exact contrast to him, was completely naked from the middle of her back down to her ankles. Her soft dress was bunched mercilessly around her shoulders, and her shorts were so pressed that they were barely visible, but still draped over her feet. Her pale thighs and buttocks had pink, criss-crossed stripes, revealing that she had recently been brutally whipped. She was handcuffed, and her slender wrists, crossed at the thinnest part of her waist, seemed to garner more attention than any other part of the picture. Whether she had been bestially raped or simply made love was not clear. But it didn’t seem to matter.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jack said from behind Deanna. His fingers traveled from her shoulders to her bare behind.

She felt the cuffs of his silk shirt brush lightly against her, and then his hand slowly slid down to the curve of her chest, resting there like a feather.

Deanna was impressed by his touch and the smoke-like nature of his voice, though her attention remained on the painting. The woman’s face was not clearly drawn, but she must not have been suffering. On the contrary, her slender body felt so good, and the marks on her white skin seemed more like symbols of pleasure than pain. The man who had copulated with her, on the other hand, had been an insignificant character-a shadowy, animal form, an accessory for the woman’s pleasure rather than a major player.

Yet, for some reason, the shadowy figure seemed familiar. She didn’t dare turn to look, but she could almost imagine that the long, shadowy figure was Jack.

The pressure of his fingers on her nipple roughly pulled her back to reality. He had pinched the swollen, firm nipple between his thumb and other finger and twisted it slowly but firmly. Deanna couldn’t believe what was happening, or should I say, what she was letting happen, or, worse, that she was actually reacting to it instinctively and naturally. Her hips began to rock slightly, as the twisting and pinching of her nipples transmitted the sensation to her lonely cunt core – this distant but identical sensation.

“Does that turn you on?” Jack asked. His warm breath flowed over the back of her neck, his other hand lifted her hair, and his mouth, rested lightly on her shoulder. She felt his teeth touch her skin, very hard and deadly, and then a light touch of his tongue, and just when she thought he was going to bite her, he let her hair down and leaned over to her, encircling the other half of her breasts.

“Does that turn you on, Dee?” He repeated, and gently twisted her, sucking and uttering her, both nipples now between his fingers. She wasn’t sure if he was referring to what he was doing now, or to the painting, but she didn’t much care. She heard herself sigh and answer “yes” to any question in the affirmative.

“Good,” he said softly, before roughly thrusting the tip of his erection between her cotton-wrapped buttocks.

Deanna knew she should have found a way to break free, but instead her body began to rock back to soothe him, gripping his firmness with her hips in a position that was just as rough as he was. Underneath her thin dress, she wore only a bib, and as Jack’s cock jabbed roughly into her buttocks, she felt the friction of the silk cloth curling up to stimulate her anus like a rod.

She moaned, caught up in two powerful sensual stimuli: his powerful and skillful grasping and squeezing of her sensitive breasts and the slower, mellower, more devastating stimulation of her buttocks. He had her bobbing up and down on him now. She gasped and reached down to caress her unnoticed straddle just as she heard his demonic laughter reach her ears.

“Yes, Di, do it,” he urged. “Caress yourself, you know you want to.” “That picture turned you on, didn’t it. Caress yourself, caress your clitoris, I can hear your pussy pleading for your caresses …… Go on, caress yourself, do it!”

His words and her hungry body compelled her to do so. The scenario was unrealistic, surreal, not of this world – and in such an unusual state of faculties. There seemed little need to resist him. She pleated her dress, pulling it up to her knees, her thighs, and even her stomach, and gripping it tightly around her waist, while her other hand went to her groin, under her pocket pants. Her pussy lips were already open and ready. And her cunt was already hot, wet and sticky.

“Are you wet, Dee?”

She nodded as her legs went weak and she continued to stir her sticky bodily fluids.

“Let me see.”

She felt her sexes quiver under her touch, and they quivered again with need as she lifted her hands up and let them rock in front of herself and Jack.

“Taste yourself.” He ordered.

Her taste was pungent, salty, ocean-like, and as she licked her fingers greedily, she was surprised at how much she enjoyed the flavor. She had tasted it before, but never with such relish, and never for a man.

“Now let me taste it.”

She reached down again and dabbed some on, this time raising it to Jack’s lips. He leaned forward, his chin resting on her shoulder, and as he inhaled and uttered, she smelled a heady scent of cologne-a floral scent that made one feel ethereal, which for a moment masked the aroma of her bodily fluids. She was wearing lavender and lily-of-the-valley scented perfume, and the smell was so heavy and numbing that she rocked back again and squeezed him harder, her hips splitting in half between his hard erection.

“Handsome,” he said contentedly, before sucking on her fingers like a child. Deanna was so close to fainting that she didn’t know if he was complimenting the taste of her or the soft touch of her ass. All she felt was his tongue moving strangely over her fingers, licking and twitching as he did so, like a naughty imitation of oral sex.

“Look at that picture, beautiful Di,” he whispered, reaching out as he did so, pulling her by the hand and returning to her straddle. He guided her, letting her touch herself, pressing his fingers against the band of her cunt while two of his own slid into her already flooded and watery cunt. “Look at that picture, isn’t that what you want? Right here, with me?” He wiggled his fingers while she whimpered and moaned, a sound that echoed as if it betrayed them. At any moment now a curious person could turn the corner, come up to this currently deserted area and find a woman being masturbated intensely while a man fondled her breasts and sex.

This is so unusual. It’s almost like a hallucination. It had to be. She’d only met this man a few minutes ago, and now she was stroking herself for him, rubbing herself at his command, enjoying the pleasure for his pleasure-and his fingers were diving deep inside her. She moaned high and low around him. Her cunt core leapt and throbbed at her touch, a prophecy of something better yet to come.

“Isn’t that right, Di, you really want it.” His voice was smooth but utterly triumphant. This brief but beautiful prelude to orgasm had completely overwhelmed her. “And you’re going to get it, my lovely girl. Go over there and lie down on that low wall, just like that day.” He moved his hand from her breast to her chin and lifted her face so that she had no choice but to stare at the painting that was impossible not to get aroused by. “Say yes, Di.” He tantalized her, flexing his soft wrist even as he stabbed deeper again, entering her more.

Her heart, her mind was screaming “No, break free, slap him and run.” But all she heard was a weak, broken “yes” that she whimpered. Nothing else seemed possible.

“Come with me, then.”

She expected him to remove his hand, to pull his fingers from her body. But when he led her to the low wall without changing at all, she couldn’t help but blush with shyness-she was still just as penetrated, just as much of a sacrifice.

After positioning her against the wall, he maneuvered her almost by her pussy. His thumb controlled her nub, applying gentle pressure, guiding her.

It was embarrassing, but she couldn’t help but react. She reacted with an eagerness that she had never felt in her previous, more egalitarian sexual experiences. In relationships with men, she’d always gotten the upper hand, whether by her sleight of hand or by the charm of her personality. But here, with Jack, she was always a horny female animal that he could play with. An object, a body, and a flesh for his pleasure. Never in her life had she felt so alive and hungry for sex as she did now. She was caught between his hand and his erection, and both ignited her.

“Lift your shirt.” He instructed the man as they reached the low wall that was only waist high and painted white.

Below them, the guests were still laughing and drinking, trying to ignore the raunchy, exciting artwork on the walls – completely oblivious to the fact that an even more appalling reality show was being performed above them.

She was pretty sure that someone was going to look up. And even if they could only see the top half of her, the lovemaking, the pushing, the leaping of her body from being impaled was impossible to misinterpret. How long, she thought wildly, would they be able to find out without breaking?

“Please, no.” She begged, her voice already hoarse.

“Please, be.” He shushed her back, coldness often in his gentle, silky voice. “Lift your shirt, Di, you know it’s what you crave.” She whimpered in protest as he lowered himself, ready to move himself. Yet still, he grasped her long, draped skirt and hesitantly lifted it to her waist.

“All naked, Di.”

She grabbed clumsily at her clothes and managed to get them all off, embarrassed that she was left with only a very small pair of bib-stall pants as a cover for her bottom. Now her fruity figure and smooth ass was on display.

“It’s beautiful ……” She felt a fingertip slip along one of her two buttocks and dive into her uncovered slit before slipping out again and tracing over her other, just as firm and plump ass. Without warning, his thumb suddenly hooked the elastic band around her waist and began to pull it downward. Within seconds, he had the stupid, useless hooded pants between her knees and, using his own knees, he braced her legs, pulling the small patch of black lace into an obscene, bouncy bridge.

In her inner eye she saw her own, satiny-skinned buttocks, looking pale and naked, just like the woman’s in the picture. There was no sign of the whipping moss on her body, but she felt that she had been branded in another way. This man’s hand had touched her, his fingers had entered her, and in a mysterious corner of her mind she knew she was by no means the same person she had been before.

She felt a heat that was about to explode inside and outside of her; her sex was now naked and glistening from its wet mug. Her bodily fluids ran down her thighs in drops like honey, and she could feel its slow, obvious stray as it crawled across her skin. Jack, behind her, should have been able to see it too, visibly flowing over her smooth, sinuous inner thighs. She’d never flowed like this before, and she knew – though not why – that Jack himself was aware of this fact.

His steps were brisk, but she felt him lean in closer. His hands grasped her bare buttocks and pushed them into a pile, just as he’d pushed her breasts earlier.

“It’s beautiful.”

He marveled in her ear as he squeezed the taut, elastic mass of flesh, then moved it, massaging it slowly and rudely, causing her to lower …… from humiliation and then climax with forbidden excitement. The sensation reached its zenith when he opened her buttocks so far that it almost hurt her and seemed to be concentrating on her rose-like anus.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered again once more. The words were so fleshed out, as if he’d touched that part of her, that tiny, constantly quivering hole.

She knew that the woman in the picture was being subjected to anal sex. It wasn’t pictured in the picture, it was just an old female instinct that told her. The same instinct told her that Jack knew it too, and that he knew the special origins of the picture …… even more so that Jack was going to replicate the scene of the picture and make it come to life, right here on the terrace.

“Oh! Please, no.” She gasped, but he was already too close, already undoing his zipper: the sharp, piercing sound was nothing short of an obscene threat. “Please, not that way, not here.”

As he leaned onto her back, she was forced to lean forward onto the low wall, and had to support her weight with one hand, as her other hand was still clutching her skirt. She was no longer able to say anything more than a faint, cat-like sound, a squeal of utter terror.

“It’s all right, my dear Di,” he soothed her. The gentle tones were yet more frightening than the shrill voice. “Not here, not now, but soon.” She felt his cock slide across her soft, thin groove, teasing her hole that trembled with fear of his entrance. He was so big, and so slippery …… that smooth glans, that even she, one who should have to feel its coldness, felt its heat. Constantly and wickedly, the round head shamelessly probed her ass, and as it squeezed and almost entered, it slid down her long, wet slit.

Yet at that moment, she felt an irrational, regretful sting.

She’d been afraid he’d have anal sex with her, afraid she’d hate the pain, and even more afraid she’d lose her dignity as a result; but now that none of that was going to happen, she wanted it again. Deanna had been saying goodbye to her virginity for some time, but suddenly she met this stranger, this rare beauty, this guy who came out of nowhere, and she wanted something new to give him.

Before she could make sense of it, however, he had grabbed her and let his long, firm cock force its way into her cunt, her soft sheath giving way gracefully to his burning, and angry, behemoth. She leaned her body forward, feeling faint, disoriented, aware only that-after long seconds-some part of his body stabbed in, in, in; that the entry was deep and long and sweet and complete, as if his fingers had just crawled over her belly, stinging her cunt, searching, searching for the core of her cunt. Her flesh and blood leapt at his touch, and the inner walls of her body twitched, caressing him of their own accord. She suppressed her moans as she climaxed gently, and felt the deepest, greatest female pleasure as he gasped contentedly next to her ear.

“You’re such a little slut, my Di.” He whispered, wriggling his hips one more time before placing his fingers in front of her nipples and moving them back and forth. She, in turn, tasted the blood that had just flowed from her mouth from biting her lip. What he had just done was fantastic and it shouldn’t be this quiet, yet she couldn’t and shouldn’t scream out. The people at the bottom were waiting for her to scream, for her to moan out of oblivion as he kept teasing her tiny clit, removing its defenses, and flicking and lemon squeezing it until she helplessly rocked her hips in response.

He was whispering on the back of her neck, calming her like a skilled horseman calming a restless pony. He was calming her, whispering words of encouragement to soothe her, and all the while his fingertips continued to oil the parts that gave her pleasure.

Deanna felt as if her body was disintegrating into water. Tears streamed down her cheeks, while droplets of sweat gathered in her armpits, her cleavage, and her groin, and her bodily fluids covered Jack’s cock and even flowed out of her pussy, pooling into a silvery, slow-moving rivulet that ran down her thighs.

“I …… I can’t ……” she whispered, her voice barely audible, just a broken gasp.

“No, you can, my Di.” That was his answer, his fingers still not relaxing as he shook them.

And what still stunned her in her stupor was that he’d barely even entered her yet; he’d just gone in to an incredible depth, bracing her tight, clinging cunt in a way she’d seldom, if ever, experienced, but just after this first long, slow thrust, he stopped. Completely still, as if he’d rather enjoy her spasms.

“Yes, you can, Di.” He repeated insistently, “I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to scream, yell, even roar.” He twisted his pelvis while Deanna had to drop her dress and shove her hand in her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. He slid his hands to her waist and pulled her closer, and leaned over, then lowered their still connected bodies to the ground.

Deanna leaned forward, elbows resting against the polished wooden floor while her sweaty face rested against her forearms, biting at her own flesh as Jack began to thrust hard and fast. Jack’s steady grip on her hips held her in place and it didn’t seem to matter now if he was touching her pussy core or not. Every push, every thrust, every bump of his cock inside her struck her every nerve deeply.

Deanna had reached an extreme orgasm, and it continued. Her womb throbbed with the predator-like rod that had taken possession of her, and she felt her soul uplifted and free to fly high. In that wonderful, almost crystalline moment, screaming no longer seemed necessary. She was like a star floating in the silent Milky Way, far from her swaying body and the dark forces that were still inside her, even though they had ended …… On the other side of the vast universe, she heard Jack grunt soothingly and felt his cock throb inside her.

It was the first time she had ever really felt that a man was cumming inside her, felt his balls tighten in a moment of ecstasy. And the hearts of both places sped back from the infinite universe just to give it their undivided attention. He filled her mixed body with feelings of utter joy, his pushing and bulging pleasure mixing with its ecstasy to create a whole new beast together. She let herself sob and moan in silence, let herself whisper foolish words of thanks to the intruder even as his weapon still throbbed slowly within her.

When they parted, she imagined a spectacle: two clothed forms, rutting fiercely on the polished wooden floor in what would be one of the most lascivious items in the gallery, a living fuck, like a royal performance. She no longer cared about being seen or heard; in fact, as she struggled to her feet, she hated to be surprised that they remained undetected. She pulled up her bib-gear pants, bored with the moistening of her pussy. It was body fluids and sweat droplets again, she literally looked like an overturned boat, and she could feel them running down her thighs. Her stupidly thin underwear was all wet too, and she really needed a private place to clean herself up.

She looked over at Jack with weak legs. He was leaning against the low wall, the zipper of his leather pants still unzipped, his softened cock still glistening and exposed. Deanna saw it for the first time and blushed involuntarily, then grabbed her backpack, which had fallen to the floor a long time ago. The taunting sound of her skirt as she stood up seemed to wake Jack, who was in a semi-frozen state after making love. But he said nothing, only a faint, conquering smile that made Deanna feel the evil she had allowed to happen.

God, I must be out of my mind! I can’t believe I’m having sex with someone I’ve never met for a moment’s fish out of water …… I’m such a slut, a whore, a sex machine who throws herself at the mercy of the world and hangs on for dear life.

“I’m sorry …… please …… I’m sorry,” she slurred, not sure exactly what she was apologizing for, and she had, in fact, begun to run in the direction of the stairs. She had to find a refuge from Jack’s satisfied, mocking smile, but she knew it was impossible. There was no way in hell she could find a place to avoid the stark fact that a cock was still covered in her bodily fluids.

It took her quite a while to clean herself up.

Jack’s incident would be far away as she cleaned herself up, and she ended up pressing her bib-gear pants into a ball, and feeling at peace with the fact that her long skirt would hide her sins: her still wet and thick pussy, her swollen labia, and the sticky, though dried, amount of his semen on her legs.

Deanna didn’t usually need to wear heavy makeup, but hers was all ruined tonight. Her mascara oil was all over her face, and she’d chewed off her lipstick. It took her far more time than she actually needed to reapply everything, moving slowly and meticulously, just to delay leaving the luxurious hideout before she had to face the man who had just possessed her again.

But when she finally finishes and shows up, he’s long gone and doesn’t need to be confronted.

She searched the entire occasion, the cloisters, and the main body of the gallery with extreme caution. A few times she imagined she saw a lean, black silk blouse and leather pants figure of him-but that was as much a fantasy as the exhibits themselves.

That bastard, she thought, hating him as fiercely as she loved his solid, tanned body. He’s gone …… He went so far as to possess me and then leave me alone to fuck off!

Losing its most sensational work this show became full of nasty pictures and lost all its charm. They still served wine, but Deanna wanted to vomit even just thinking about it. She rolled up her catalog and slowly headed out into the hot night air.

She stood on the sidewalk, pondering whether to take a cab or the subway, and suddenly she had a strange feeling…that in this crazy, disordered metropolis, a man named Jack had made love to her. She touched her lips. Recalled the excitement and amusement of the moment, and remembered even more how, more than once during this whole wild ride, he had, on more than one occasion, pressed his lips against her own and kissed her wildly.

Chapter 2: A Prince in the City

I’m already obsessed, I must be! Delia thought in the darkness.

Behind her tightly closed eyes, she saw a handsome but somewhat blurred face, and tall, large bronze column-like, manly, strong body looming over her – a completely naked, beautiful body.

Like the perfect dream he was, the man slid slightly between her legs, found this tropical place that needed him, and then entered her deeply and very thoroughly. Most of his flesh was spectacular as he stretched her and she raised her hips up to help him.

Don’t speak – please, my prince, don’t speak! She begged him to be quiet, and as he began to twitch, her body was accelerating, rushing toward orgasm. But as this elusive, wonderful sensation built around his sliding organ, she knew that at any moment he would jerk away from her. Words would dilute it, and she needed an orgasm as much as her flesh craved it, but the need was slender and fragile. If her lover spoke, her pleasure would immediately disintegrate. And she would become isolated and lonely.

But these elves smiled, as if they had done so last night, and the internal imagery of her beautiful prince of darkness remained clear, obvious, & real. For the second time in a row, a mixture of her mind and external entities came to follow, and the man working hard on her began to moan and gasp, but not speak. As he worked harder, he grunted contentedly, but alas, it was nothing more than a sound that came from his throat.

Two hands gripped her hips to maintain the tightness, and as the pace increased, Delia felt a sudden jolt of panic that she wasn’t ready, it was too soon. The prince’s face faded into a blank, and the curtained boudoir of her fantasy began to sway and fade.

No! Not now! She demanded that he not leave and realized that she was pleading with her imagination. Twitching in her lover’s embrace and finding the slit in her lips. At that moment there was an impermissible sound in her ears, but Delia paid no attention. She concentrated hard on her willpower, trying to recall her sweet, claustrophobic secret fantasies, and then pressed her pussy lips together – tapping the small, wet beads hard enough that it could make her sexual partner redundant.

As her fiery body pulsed, she made a sound of relief that was inside her, and the fingers around her labia were the prince’s, and seconds later, magically became his tongue again, pointed and wet and wiggling or licking as if dancing, just to please her.

The images she saw were clear and unbearably sweet. Their textures had all been integrated before she saw these simple inner visions. Now she could hear words, but they came from within, a soft hum of contentment “So majestic” and behind its eyelids she caught a glimpse of her black monarch’s face. It was the first time she had seen it so clearly, the imagery was so lascivious she was on the verge of an orgasm, and before her pleasure-filled senses could leave a trace of it behind it disappeared again, leaving only a small impression: fantasies, memories, a sketch of her sister …… and, strangely enough, a scent. A mesmerizing mixture of floral scents – not from her room, but from the dream, and the boudoir within.

As the orgasm floated through her entire body, she finally decided to give up on the pleasure. It wasn’t her hot skin she tasted, but an unmistakable, manly flavor – the pungent smell of a sharp, hard cock, and the liquid that dripped from the inside.

In that moment, as she climaxed, she might have sworn that she had tasted the prince.

Russell didn’t like sex, he didn’t like it at all. Delia stood under the rosette head rinsing her body with water, she still felt hot and she realized that a lot of the original heat came from anger.

What was wrong with him? Most men would head for the bed in a passionate frenzy, but not her Russell. He only seemed to get interested when she was passive. They hadn’t had much of a relationship when they’d first started dating, and in every other way they’d seemed to be a good match, so this lesser sexual relationship had been overlooked.

Living the past few weeks, sometimes Delia had changed, or her sex drive had changed. She couldn’t control the change at first, but all she knew was that she needed orgasmic sex now, and lots of it, and she wanted lots of it. She needed excitement, initiative, and all the bickering that went with it. The uninteresting nature of her bedding Russell made her crave this pandemonium even more.

Of course, she’d gotten advice from her sister, Deanna born fifteen minutes late but thousands of years ahead of her time in terms of sexual experience. She had given Delia two simple pieces of advice. The first was to “ditch the poor bastard,” which Delia was beginning to consider. The second was to fantasize more, in and out of bed, an idea she adopted immediately and ended up meeting the prince.

She knew he would make a great partner, and he was so skillful that she was relieved. Instead, her fantasies yielded greater satisfaction than the excitement Russell’s cock could give her. The prince was tall, had dark skin, and was of unknown origin: chiseled and sexualized, like a phantom, yet incredibly real when she opened her heart to him. She listened to Deanna’s advice and fantasized about caressing him before making love with him, the excitement of making love, the laziness of the commission afterwards. She never saw his face, but she knew all about his preferences and the way he made love.

The prince loved the sound of an orgasmic scream and would purposely try to provoke that reaction. Before he entered her, he kept moving his hands and lips over her body and pussy. His preliminaries were time-consuming and considerate. Russell, however, always took only a few minutes to do it, and likewise, only a few minutes for one in and one out before it was haphazardly wrapped up.

And that had been the case long ago now, after his brief errand before Russell left for work, and to make it up to her, he’d coaxed her about getting her a birthday present.

Delia took the pills and fantasized about making love to the prince, who slid into her hot, slippery pussy like a god, screaming and having an orgasm that made her fall head over heels and shiver all over.

But after this she hated regret and was very angry. The truth was that the ground wasn’t wanted in the beginning, but she did it anyway. When punctuality and productivity were especially important, she’d made herself late for work, and all she’d gotten was a burst of anger.

God, this wasn’t good! Her anger at Russell bounced around inside her in a very strange way. So hot. She wasn’t trying particularly hard, but she forked to summon her prince anyway, and had ordered him to share her steam-filled shower with her. It was maddening to have this kind of weather on a May day, and even at seven-thirty in the morning, she could still feel her sweat running into the water. It felt as if she had begun to soften and dissolve from both inside and outside her body. Her whole body felt so soft, and the only areas that were tighter were the ones ruled by the prince: her slightly aching nipples and the area that had arched up, between her legs. She moaned in resignation and reached down to touch herself. As her wet, sticky pussy blossomed toward a flower, she also felt a surge of additional pleasure. And if she continued to masturbate here, she could make Russell late as well.

It’s just you and me, Prince, she murmured, and spread her thighs to allow the Prince to bestow the magic of his fingers upon her. As she gently touched herself, it was actually his incredibly elegant hands that thrilled her, and his dexterity that made her breathless and more than a little out of her mind. She leaned back against the smooth wall of the bathroom, then adjusted her hips to match her fingers. She couldn’t believe it was her own fingers, and her earth-sensitive pussy said it should have been the prince’s.

The coldness of those tiles could no longer cool her, and she summoned up her last but wonderful resentment again. Her clit still between her fingers, her breasts still pressed and flattened against the wall, she slipped her other hand between her buttocks.

In the midst of this eroticism with its oriental flavor, the prince knelt behind her and began sucking furiously on her anus. She flattened that little hole, letting her intruder lick, squeeze, and stab it, burrowing right into her insides as if to match the pleasure of her labia for beauty.

“Oh, yes, that’s it, yes, oh,” she groaned lowly, and squatted, and the water ran into her mouth, but her fingers kept working, working, working …… more.

Delia was much too late. Late, uninspired, and feeling really bad about herself on a morning when she was supposed to look flawless.

As she drove through the rush hour traffic, she felt already dirty despite another shower. The crossbow-loving Russell had just pulled her back from her wonderful masturbation, which had deepened the rift between them. The fact of breaking up with him was a nasty one, but one that had to be faced. And as she passed through the hallways and elevators of the Diggle building, it did enter into her list of several issues that caused her pain. First, because of Russell, and his “birthday dinner”, she was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Delia had always been very particular about what she wore to work, and this had never happened to her before. She wished she had insisted on going to the exhibit yesterday, she had wanted to go. Or at least insisted on going home after sex!

Originally, she would have rushed home at about ten o’clock to change. But not today. The big boss was coming today. And the boss of all bosses was coming to England to inspect his British properties. Jack B. Diggle – Jack B. Diggle. The owner of Diggle International Enterprises. Even now, he’s most likely perusing his personnel file.

Even though Delia’s office was dozens of floors away from his office on the top floor, she could be called up at any time. “Informal interviews with key executives may be in order,” was the rumor in the building, and Murphy’s Law said of Delia.

Fidelo, the manager of departmental administration, would surely be summoned while she was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. She took a grateful sip of the coffee her secretary had prepared for her and hurried to the restroom.

Delia surveyed herself in the mirror and thought that everything was okay, she wasn’t as bad as she thought she was.

Her hair and face makeup looked unusually fresh in this crazy weather. With these things, she could wear makeup, perfume or even grams of exotic scents and be up to her exacting standards. She was also lucky that although she had thick and wavy hair, she was born knowing how to cure it. She could always get it into all sorts of, smooth and silky hair styles. And today, she let it curl at the nape of her neck. And without having to use hair gel or spray, she could make it form tendrils to the sides.

God, why is it so hot? Delia took her makeup out of her bag and touched it up again. She felt worn and used; beastly, too, as if the unusual heat had changed her completely. Was it a coincidence? Did this new craving she had for sex have anything to do with this record-breaking heat?

She stared at her slightly blushing self in the mirror, wishing more than anything that she could be a little more like Deanna sometimes. Delia always wore what looked like a tank top or even a semi-sheer skirt and corset on hot days, and only very tiny panties, and then wandered around in high spirits. Geez! Yet Delia had to admit that her sister, who had little purpose and took one step at a time, could always dress up like a fairy in the end. A new age fairy. Yet she was extremely carnal and ready, literally, for sex at any time.

Make love! Oh, shit! Not again! Delia fiddled with her navy blue dress, thinking about what this heat wave had done to her hormones somehow. Today was perhaps the most important day of her career, she might have to meet her boss later, and she was surprised that she was having lustful thoughts again. The obscure male lead in this lustful thought not only improved the sex between her and Russell, but proved how pathetic that sex its really was.

And another thing, for someone who wasn’t sexually interested, Russell surprised her with a birthday present. And she could use it today, since she had run out of clean underwear to wear.

It felt strange to be wearing this one-piece tight underwear. It annoyed her because she could clearly feel the underwear unspeakably irritating her nipples; and to make matters worse, the frills of the panties were unknowingly creeping into the thin groove of her pussy. Any movement on her part seemed to make it fit tighter, and she hardly dared to imagine its current state. It was thin, and she was sweating and feeling mildly aroused again. Not to mention the fact that she’d already done it twice in twelve hours …… As she was about to enter the cubicle to make some more personal adjustments, she heard a startled knock at the door.

“Delia! Please hurry!” Her secretary, Susie, screamed and almost fell into the restroom. “Diggle’s personal assistant just called and said you’re next! He wants you upstairs right away for that ‘informal interview’.”

When Delia was in the elevator, millions of bad vibes struck at her, and most of them blamed her.

Why didn’t she have the courage to go home and change? Surely she could have made up an excuse for it! Why didn’t she go to that big shot’s exhibition? Maybe he’d ask her what she, the recipient of the invitation card, thought of the show! Unfortunately, however, only Deanna could answer that question!

Most importantly, why hadn’t she done herself a favor and gathered a little information about this mysterious Diggle earlier? He was the owner of her company and one of the richest men in the world, and she had no idea what he looked like or how old he really was.

As she waited outside his office, she tried to visualize what he looked like, what someone as rich and powerful as he would be like. Logic dictated that he would look like Ross Perot, or a gray-haired business magnate from a serial. But all Delia could imagine was …….

“You may go in, Miss Ferraro.” Diggle, the super-competent secretary, greeted cordially.

Delia’s heart began to race, and adrenaline had rushed with her blood. Don’t be stupid! He was nothing but a man, and most likely just a boring old man. She had always been good at her job, in fact, should have been the best. What did she have to worry about? And even if he did ask about the exhibition, just say he gave the tickets to his sister, it shouldn’t be a big deal, should it?

That office was huge. From where she stood it seemed to be as wide as the entire building, and inside there was just one man, sitting behind a large, distant desk, reading something. He was dark-haired, and seemed to be looking intently at a file in front of him. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, but his height and build were not clearly visible because they were blocked behind the desk. A man like this should have been a complete stranger …… but he was the prince Delia had kissed and caressed in her recent daydreams.

And when the “prince” rose gracefully and walked smoothly toward her, then held out his hand in greeting, Delia felt the same flickering sexual urge she’d been feeling lately.

For several seconds she couldn’t think, speak, or breathe, and she kept wondering afterward how she’d just figured out how to keep from falling.

This man wasn’t supposed to be real, but he was really in front of her eyes. She should still be in this boring city, not in her dreamy, gorgeous boudoir. And yet that really was the face she’d seen in a flash this morning, and she bet if she got down on her knees right now, unzipped him, and sucked him off, it would taste the same way she’d tasted it in her fantasies.

Before her stood the archetype of all things dark, tall, and beautiful. It was a man whose mouth, hands, and body had been helping to complete her sex since she first fantasized about him coming.

“Delia. Ferraro,” he said softly, every note in his voice sounding so familiar. “How are you today? You look like you’re a little surprised to see me.”

Delia fainted. This is so weird. He didn’t know him. It was just her fantasy, not his! How could he know what he meant to her?

“Yeah …… sorry,” she stammered, really feeling faint. “You …… you and I thought ……”

She couldn’t finish as the soft white light seemed to explode around it. The heat this morning was already killing her, even in this air-conditioned room, and suddenly she seemed to be spinning again.

She was literally about to pass out in seconds, and the carpet had begun to shake uneasily, and all she felt was that she was being picked up easily and carried across the large room. And before she could carefully analyze what had happened, she was placed on a leather couch.

Around that there were several armchairs arranged around a glass coffee table, and next to them was the spectacularly intimidating, bird’s eye view of the city. Delia stared blankly at the view, and after a moment she felt a glass of water being put to her lips, and then a strong hand pushing at the back of her head to help her drink it.

The water was cool and had a slight mineral flavor to it, which seemed to help her return to consciousness. She blinked desperately, trying to get a better look at the man beside her, whose knees were almost touching her bare, stockingless legs.

“Better now?” Diggle’s soft, velvet-like voice was as uncanny as his good looks. It was also familiar.

“Uh, thanks, I’ve been better.” She calmed down as much as she could. “I’m sorry about that, Mr. Diggle. It’s all because of this weather, and I don’t seem to be adjusting well.”

“Mr. Diggle?” His black lashes blinked up in surprise-Delia couldn’t figure out how, even if it took her a lifetime. All she’d done was say his name-yah!

“Why are we so formal today, Ms. Ferraro.” He giggled her and then without warning took the cup from her trembling hand. When he set it aside, he came back to grasp her hand, and he wrapped his thumb around her palm in slow circles. “So warm.” He said delicately. “But your personnel file doesn’t say a word about that, Di, does it?” His thumb stopped circling, and slipped away, and Diggle lifted her still-shaking hand to his lips and kissed it where he’d just touched it.

As that kiss spread through her palm, she felt it elsewhere. Between her legs, her pussy seemed to react. And though her heart seemed to be temporarily out of commission, her hormones had fired and flowed violently. Diggle’s tongue moved while she moaned and immediately thought of her prince again.

She was lying on a silky soft bed while the prince pressed his face between her spread legs. It was all so real that she undressed right there in the leather chair and unconsciously pulled her skirt up above her thighs, ready to …… be.

“Mr. Diggle! Please!” She screamed and drew back her hand. He had begun to suck on her palm, and it felt so exciting. “I …… think I came here to discuss business …… discuss my performance ……”

“My sweet Di,” he breathed into her hand, “I should know all I need to know about your performance.” He paused, stood up, took off his gold-rimmed glasses, and laid them on the coffee-table.

Delia was startled, but didn’t dare say anything.

In her fancy dreams, she had always thought of the prince as having brown eyes – so as to match his coal-black hair. Yet while Diggle had shiny black hair like the man of her dreams, his eyes completely ruined that hue. They were surprisingly blue. A deep, deep blue. Like the ocean in the east, freshly stormed and glistening.

Also, they were oddly shaped; long, sort of almond-like, and with the corners of the eyes tilted outward. She knew that his full name included the word Kazito, but she hadn’t realized that his Japanese features were so pronounced on his face.

This whole thing really was amazing. First he appeared frequently in her visions, then he came alive again. Suddenly she was dizzy. And helpless. Like she was lost in a land of sexual desire, and the signposts were rapidly unraveling.

“You didn’t realize I wore glasses?” He asked, and blinked, as if to emphasize the brightness of his strongly exotic eyes. “I wear them when I read. And I was just in the middle of reading your file, Di. And reading it very carefully.”

“Why?” She asked, still unable to hide her jaw-dropping expression and wondering why he kept calling her “Di.” The company’s personnel file was indeed very detailed, but as far as she knew, I don’t think nicknames were included. She felt that there was something strange going on, but in front of the prince of her dreams, she didn’t know how to ask questions.

But he was something more than a dream. And not quite the same ……

His handsome looks were more than enough for a male lead in a sexual fantasy, but did the prince have the same, white, tiny scar on his forehead? And did the prince have hair as long as his, so long that it had to be tied in a ponytail? Yet all these differences only made him more attractive, and he was just as sexy in a suit holding his face when he was completely naked. Even though she kept staring at him, he tilted his head back and laughed at her question. His neck, coming out of his shiny white collar, was a long, elegant curve, and Delia wanted so badly to plead with him so she could come right up and kiss it.

“Why?” He repeated, and reached out, placing his fingers on her cheek, “Because I want you, Di. I’m obsessed with you. You’re exactly as the file says, and yet very surprising at the same time. It feels as if I’m spending time with two women.”

A light flashed in Delia’s head at that moment as his fingers slid over her cheek, her chin, and then without hesitation to her neck. A warning sign of danger.

Deanna! The painting show! Last night! That’s it! Diggle went to his own painting show …… And he met Deanna.

And he was touching her now, Delia, like he was touching Deanna. Starting with her right away. Doing that kind of thing. What the hell did Deanna say? And what did she do?

But when Diggle started to take off her blouse, the answer was obvious. He was undressing her now because he had done it last night. At least he was thinking he had done it.

Reason and emotion twisted in Delia’s head while carnal desires stirred within her. The rational side said, “Tell him now!” Explain it to him quickly as he strips you naked and rides the tiger.

But another voice spoke. And it was louder. It was the voice of her emotions and phantom dreams, and it was her pussy speaking.

He’s mine! It screamed. He’s mine, Deanna, and you’re trying to steal him away! Fuck you, he’s mine, and I want him back!

That just wasn’t reasonable or wise. But when Diggle opened the first button of her blouse, Delia surprisingly reached out to help him as well.

Reason finally called out one more time, “Mr. Diggle, please,” she gasped while he opened her blouse, revealing her lace-covered tits.

“‘Jack’ …… Didn’t I tell you to call me ‘Jack'” he said, and with his dark blue eyes on her pleading look. Then embraced her breasts and squeezed them hard, which made her yelp, but was exactly what she wanted. “God, Dee, you’re beautiful! I had to go first last night, but I wanted to stay so badly. When I woke up this morning, your body was the first thing I thought of. I had to touch myself because I couldn’t touch you! I kept thinking about how your breasts looked when I removed their covering, and how they felt to the touch. I also remember how good it felt when I slipped inside your cozy body. How wet, hot, and ready you were. When I think about how you tasted, I can’t help but go crazy over it …… You know what, Dee? And yet I haven’t even kissed you yet!”

He whispered the words in her ear as he said them, and then he turned her face toward him, and the words turned to action.

Subconsciously Delia opened her lips, ready for that first, sweet invasion. His tongue was wet and soft, while hers was hot and wet. As their two lips met, she let her mind go ahead and imagined the taste of his skin and privates. She imagined every inch of his body, and then imagined his hands-two together-grabbing her blouse dominantly and peeling it off.

Her hands were gripped by him at her waist, making her look like a maid, while her head, her shoulders, and her breasts waited for his command. She didn’t know where the fantasy had gotten to, and his tongue stabbed deeper, and pinned hers down. He carefully, almost a little hesitantly, pinched her nipples, and swirled them back and forth. Such a wonderful sensation traveled directly to her clit, and made her pussy door throb uncontrollably as well. Her private parts were already feeling so aroused that it was as if she didn’t need any further contact to reach orgasm.

She wanted to scream his name, to call him “Your Highness”, “Lord” or whatever he called her in her visions, but her mouth was already filled with his tongue and all she could do was to lean forward even more and offer her breasts to him.

Her contribution was immediately accepted. With great dexterity and experience, he undid her underwear, exposing her breasts. Delia began to gasp, knowing that what was happening was a bit of an exaggeration. They were sitting in front of a clear window and it was broad daylight; the office was unlocked so anyone could come in; his secretary or typist could walk in at any time …… and she was being kissed and her breasts were exposed.

“But, Mr. Diggle,” she murmured into his mouth, and such helplessness excited her all the more. He was still very neatly dressed, but she was completely naked from the waist up, and her hands were again contained by her jumpsuit.

“Call me ‘Jack’,” he said and launched his attack downward. He put his lips on top of one of her breasts, “Jack,” he repeated, and nipped at her nipple with his teeth, then bit down very, very warily.

Delia’s hips embraced up toward him, a movement that was not by choice, and her entire pussy was already quivering with a gentle shiver of longing. She longed for fingers to go down, stroking, or pressing. Or a tongue to lick …… or a cock to prick and expand …… anything. As long as it was his and it was between her legs, calming her raging hunger. And when he gently nibbled on her nipples, she moaned and shook, her hips sliding even more helplessly on the couch.

“A little patience.” His breath on her chest seemed like a fan. “No one will come in. We still have plenty of time. And there’s so much more I want to do to you.” He moved his mouth to her other nipple, sucking, then blowing, and stroking the halo created by his saliva with his tongue before flicking her nipple itself.

The stimulation was very precise and carefully measured; it was designed to build up the stimulation and raise it to a new and as yet unattained level. In the past, Delia had always taken things as they came in sex, accepting the stimulation as it came. Never before had she been so horny; never before had she needed a man’s touch so badly that she felt she would die if she didn’t get it. The need was like an addict’s need for an anesthetic …… and her breasts and pussy had never been burned by a male fire as they were now. And the pain was coming from herself, because she wanted every single one of her erogenous zones to be stroked and sucked at once, and the rougher and more savage the better.

After a series of cat-like, tongue strokes, Diggle got her breasts all wet, and then, he put his hand out and grabbed hers.

“Catch yourself, Di,” he ordered calmly, and let her hands encircle her body. She felt uncomfortable and hindered by her clothes, but she obeyed him. And she felt a film of his saliva form, and as she pinched her nipples with her thumb and other fingers, she gasped and then whimpered. Beneath her, her body had begun to disobey …… her.

He had brought her to orgasm. Took her to an orgasm. He had only touched its breasts, and yet the ground had reached a most wonderful climax. She floated between the phantasmagoria and the heat of the city, addicted to the wave that had brought her to her zenith, and heard a cry of helplessness from between her lips. She pinched her nipples hard, and sobbed: and then heard Diggle-who was suddenly Jack- naughty she laughed, while she propelled her body in front of his.

“I knew you’d be like this,” he said, and ostentatiously jumped from the couch to the floor and was kneeling in front of her. “When I first saw your picture in the file. Your eyes …… I knew you would orgasm easily for me. And knew that you would be made more beautiful by the slightest touch, and dissolve, and drain. I knew even more that when we met, you would perform for me.”

Delia – who had never performed or climaxed easily in her life – so longed to stroke her pussy. It was flapping and beating like a second heart. It was big and brown, wanting to be touched, caressed. But she felt paralyzed. Only Jack could authorize her to caress herself.

When exactly had he taken complete control of her? She didn’t know exactly when, but he had suddenly become her master. He was her prince, a living, breathing presence in the city, with power over her, and the ability to give her pleasure with little effort.

Delia dropped back into a sitting position, her eyes closed, her hands still grasping her breasts, and she felt him shift his position slightly before realizing that his fingers were at the edge of her skirt. Without hesitation, he quickly pushed her skirt up along her thighs and right up to her hips. Delia lifted her hips automatically, and it didn’t take long for her bottom half to be exactly the same as her top half – everything that was supposed to cover it had been crudely squeezed up to her waist.

She didn’t dare look down, for she knew her panties had been twisted and squeezed between her pussy lips. She could feel the warm air flowing between her pubic hair and her long legs-and there was now only a thin piece of pure yellow weave left to shield her from the gaze of his regal, blue gaze.

“So beautiful ……”

For several seconds Delia’s trembling had nothing to do with sex anymore. He’d said it. Said the words of her dreams. It didn’t matter about the blue eyes, he’d matched her dream man perfectly, and her nearly naked body had gone crazy for him.

Instinctively she began to move her body, letting her lower body sway in a wavy pattern in front of him, making it go up and down like an Egyptian belly dancer. It was the most lascivious movement she had ever made, but she could no longer bring herself to stop.

She shuddered again as he picked at the deep panties and then very rhythmically pulled them back and forth over her swollen clit. The already soaked fabric clung wickedly to her body, over that most sensitive of areas, while Delia’s face felt a hot wetness. Her legs began to dance wildly like scissors, and she reached another orgasm. But almost before that, she felt Jack push his fingers between her pussy lips and loosen her panties. All she felt was a tug, and then Jack had left her glistening pussy completely naked.

“Oh! Oh God!” She had moaned in a low voice, but she couldn’t help but cry out as his fingers entered her cunt. His movements were indescribably gentle, but it was still an invasion, still wonderfully and mortifyingly rough. The very core of her body was now impaled on a stranger’s finger.

His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath. “Relax, Di,” he whispered, “let me in.” A second finger slid in alongside the first, and they merged and swirled inside her.

“Oh, Jack, please!” She cried, also realizing that it was the first time she had ever called his name alone. She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for, but as she did, her clit leapt in mid-air. It seemed to be feeling the biggest and most engorged it had ever felt since she could remember, and seemed to be silently begging to be masturbated.

She finally opened her eyes and seemed to have to fight the unusually heavy feeling eyelids to do so. She just looked at the man, crouching softly between her legs.

His preoccupation with her pussy was, for some reason, almost like worship. And Delia, despite her turmoil, found a moment of clarity to admire him and marvel at his thick and perfectly organized dark hair.

She had never seen hair so thick, straight, and alive. At first she’d thought he’d used hairspray, but when she clumsily reached out to stroke him, she felt nothing but silky softness and a touch like the fur of a healthy animal. He felt her touch and glanced up, and the sudden, sly grin that appeared on his face only enhanced her impression. He truly was a beast. A beautiful, shiny predator, a shrewd and gentle woman-eater, and one that was waiting to be fed between her bare legs.

She couldn’t close her eyes anymore. She watched in a trance as he smiled once more, then stuck out his long, pink tongue and lowered his face to her pussy. She felt a soft, wet contact that connected wonderfully with her clit and squeezed it gently, bringing her to another orgasm that almost stopped her heart. As he flicked his tongue rapidly, her whimpers turned into broken, breathless screams. And the wonderful excitement kept piling up, so that she had almost reached the limit of what she could take. But even then, her bare pussy still rose up to meet him once again. And in this improvised position she had made, she also grabbed as much of his dark, wonderful head as she could and pulled his face even closer to her bottom.

Suddenly, it all seemed partly too much. At least far more than Delia had been used to in the past. She was still deep in her orgasm, but felt a powerful, soft darkness engulf her, and a sweet fainting spell descend upon her, saving her from collapse.

But in the last second before she was washed away, she felt her name, “Dee,” whispered against her still throbbing clit.

When Delia wakes up, she remembers a dream. A lustful, impressionistic dream. In that dream, the prince gave her the pleasure she had been waiting for. She could remember very clearly his hands touching her, and then the side of his mouth as well. All of these actions were so clear in her mind, except that there were some pieces of intercourse that were less clear.

She vaguely remembered his hand at her ankle, stroking it and lifting it up and opening her thigh into an arch, exposing her pussy. She remembered his lips kissing her foot, his hand sliding up and down her leg, and then his fingers opening the lips of her cunt like an orchid in bloom.

She also seemed to remember a rustling of clothes, followed immediately by a heavy, probing force that applied pressure to her pussy door.

A male gasp followed, and then a straight cock entered her.

But that seemed to be all she could remember.

Delia carefully sat up on the couch, she ran her fingers over the seams of her dress and frowned.

She also checked her neckline, and the buttons on her dress that fit, before creasing her brow again.

Had it happened or not? She was indeed in Diggle’s large office, but what exactly had happened about half an hour ago, she couldn’t be sure. She glanced at the large desk to make sure that at least the man wasn’t a dream. He was talking on the phone, and although she could tell from his tone that he was dealing with a matter of considerable importance, he smiled at her. And with a mischievous wink, threw her a flying kiss.

God, it really was happening. At least partly it was. …… Yet somehow she was back in her clothes: completely wrapped up, buttons all buttoned up, and even as she experimented with switching her legs in the chair, she realized – her concealed buttons had all been buttoned up, too. She was neatly and appropriately dressed, but she had no recollection of having put them on herself!

Diggle – or Jack, as she felt she had to call him now – seemed unusually calm and unflappable. If he had actually made love to her, it was not obvious, at least on the outside. After he hung up the phone, he stood up and wordlessly crossed the carpet toward her, looking as flawless as a professional model and ten times more attractive.

A wave of primal feminine fear made her shrink slightly as he sat down beside her, and it made him smile. Deftly, almost a little slyly, he reached out and quickly cupped her heated cheeks.

“You’re so exciting, Sweet Dee,” he murmured, and leaned over to press his lips against hers. That kiss was actually a very simple one, but afterward his tongue delicately licked over her skin as well. “I want to spend all day with you, to keep you aroused and to play with this hot body of yours as well ……” his fingers slid from her face to her chin to her throat, ” …… Play until you beg me to stop. But God, I have a meeting in ten minutes, and as excited as I still am, I must go.” He grabbed her trembling hand and placed it on his erection, grasping it through his underwear. And even through her clothes, she felt warmth-a huge, hard thing that throbbed uncontrollably as she grasped it.

As she subconsciously began to stroke him, a little sound came from his throat. Had this rod just been inside her? She wondered, and was angry that she couldn’t be sure. She had fantasized about it, but it could have really only been that. A fantasy.

Apparently with great reluctance, he drew his hand away from her body, and rose gracefully to his feet. “Beautiful Di,” he said, his voice so intimate even though he had gotten a little farther away from her. “I have to go.”

There must have been a look of dismay on her face, for with a sympathetic look he approached her again, grasped the hand that had held him, and kissed her fingers.

“You take the afternoon off. Go home and get some rest, and I’ll send for you at eight.” Then he was gone again, leaving her alone with obvious regret. They could have discussed job performance-she’d thought it was going to be that way before he started taking control of her life. “Dress nice, Di. Be able to make an impression. I know a place that would be perfect for you.” And with that, and no other words of farewell, he was gone-left the empty room without looking back at her even once.

Delia sat dazedly in that leather chair as a minute passed and another. Jack’s secretary could come in at any moment to check on him, wondering why Delia hadn’t left when her boss had.

Yet that important question still bothered her. Had he, or had he not? He had touched her, he had pleasured her, he had sucked her …… even more, but had he entered her or not? She kept trying to recall.

It wasn’t until she finally stood up that she came to a conclusion. As she straightened her body, straightened her collar, and smoothed her skirt, she felt a slight but telling sensation, physical evidence.

A hint of her bodily fluids dripped down the side of her panties as she walked toward the door, toward the sexless office.

“Fuck you, Jack! You go to hell!” She whimpered, hating him, but beginning to miss him as well.

Chapter 3: The Game of the Twins

“Deanna, are you there? I know you weren’t even at work!”

Deanna heard her sister’s angry voice, and she sank under the warm bath water and sank her head in as well, allowing herself to hide from the voice, and from reality.

When she surfaced again, her wet hair was plastered to her face and neck, and her sister’s angry voice was still there and getting louder.

She knows. Deanna thought. She got up from the water and wrapped a towel around her naked body. Somehow, she’d recognized Jack, too. Geez! I really hope he’s not a big shot.

For a number of reasons, Deanna took her time wiping herself down. The first reason was that, even in the morning, it was a little too hot to have her hands full. The second reason was that she wanted to give herself a little more time to think about what she was going to tell Delia. The third reason was that the movement of that towel over her could remind her of Jack, the way he’d touched her, made love to him. Even though his disappearance had made her angry, she couldn’t help but think back to when she was with him.

She had never had a sexual experience like this one. But for sure, she liked to have more experiences like this. If I can get it, she thought quietly …… At that moment a sharp, angry knock sounded on the door.

“Deanna!”

“What for?”

“I know you’re in there, get your clothes on and come out now!”

The footsteps of heels hitting the parquet floor outside faded into a blur, at which point Deanna pleated her towel, opened the door, and poked her head out, Delia, the righteous goddess of vengeance, was gone.

Deanna was startled when she strolled cautiously into the parlor. Her sister had always been a careful drinker and had never drunk during the day, but she was pulling the cork from a drop of white wine. There were two glasses on the table, one in front of the sofa and the other in front of the armchair. Deanna knew that a long conversation was about to begin.

“Sit down, Deanna,” Delia’s voice was calm when she was pouring the sprinkles, but Deanna wouldn’t be so innocent; her sister was in a rage about something-and the saner she sounded, the worse things were.

Sometimes drinking didn’t relax Deanna, and the wine she was sipping now was the cheap and cheerful kind, but it still reminded her of how she’d drank it last night. The cold nectar made her irresistible to Jack.

“So how was the painting show!” Delia inquired, “Did anything unusual happen?”

Deanna tried to lie for a moment, but she soon learned that it wouldn’t help. She and Delia weren’t exactly telepathic twins, but they were very close, so when one of them lied, the other was sure to be able to tell.

“Well, as a matter of fact something happened. There was a male. I met a guy.”

“You ‘met’ a guy.” It didn’t really need to be said much, as Deanna gazed at the face that was so godlike to her own! Yet in some ways it was so different-she already knew she must tell all.

“It’s not just that la ……” she said slowly and hesitantly as she took a deep breath and sipped her spill.

As she was describing the bizarre event, she couldn’t even look at her sister. Instead, she began to study her glass. Inside the ever-filling glass, she saw Jack’s brown skin and his Japanese samurai-like face.

“That’s it?” , Delia urged when Deanna stopped. “You’re letting this guy fuck you, and you’re thinking he might be part Eastern.”

“Well,” Deanna whispered, startled by her sister’s use of the word. Delia had never used words like that before.

“Well, Delia, that’s a coincidence,” Deanna said as she refilled her glass and took a sip, then deliberately rendered that tense atmosphere. She stops, kicks off her shoes, and unbuttons her jacket.

At that moment, Deanna was very surprised to realize that her sister was wearing a sexy and attractive piece of lingerie. Deanna had to forget about the lingerie when Delia started to continue her sedate conversation.

“It’s really very strange, I met a Japanese half-breed this morning named Jack… Cazito DiGale. Diggle, and he likes to be called Jack.” Delia placed her cup carefully and precisely on the coffee table. “He’s my boss, Deanna, and you left your panties at his place twenty minutes after you met him. Damn it, what the hell are you up to? Didn’t I tell you not to draw too much attention to yourself?”

“All you said was that no one from your department would show up, so it’s okay for you to give the tickets away.” Deanna was feeling angry now, too. If Delia was going to bring it up again, she also had to understand that part of the fault was going to be hers. If she hadn’t gone out with Russell and visited that painting exhibit instead, this whole thing never would have happened.

Suddenly, Deanna was a little uneasy. If Delia had gone to that painting show. Then it would be her who was on that landing with Jack.

“Did he say anything? Did you tell him anything? Did he say anything about us being twins?”

Deanna inquired.

“No, nothing!”

“Are you talking about that, Delia? What do you mean?” That giddy feeling returned. Deanna poured a lot of wine in an attempt to go wash away her assumptions.

“As I said, no!” Delia’s voice was a little odd, she sounded a little strange. “He didn’t mention much about it. And I didn’t even get a chance to tell him we were twins, so he doesn’t know yet.”

The bottle was now empty, so Deanna nervously twisted her towel instead of drinking, knowing full well that while the fever continued to increase, she suddenly felt cold.

“So he knew it was you who was with him last night?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Delia Ferraro. Ferraro?”

“He called us ‘Di’.”

“Did he …… wasn’t he ……”

How to ask? What to ask? Last night a man had come into her life and changed her. She’d caught a glimpse of a whole new sexual experience, and then …… that experience had been quickly taken away from her. But now there was a chance. A chance to fight back and one filled with complications and intrigue.

“What does he think about sex?” Deanna finally blurted out.

Delia’s face was like a painting. Deanna wished so much at this point that she had a pen to catch the intricate emotions in a complementary way. Her sister felt confused, yet also full of excitement, mischief and surprise. She was still angry, but it had subsided quite a bit now, replaced by a sense of curiosity.

“Well.” Delia concluded, “He’s a man of action, isn’t he? He didn’t make a comment.”

Deanna felt her emotions ripple and were suffocating her. “That horny bastard,” she screamed, “he made love to you too, didn’t he?” She couldn’t properly tell if she was jealous or admiring. If it was admiration, was it for this sexually potent, handsome, woman-molesting Jack? Or was it admiration for this prudent and composed sister who had done something all but dishonorable? Sadly, it was just after noon, they must have just done it in the office.

Suddenly, the sisters were hugging each other and sobbing. They kept asking each other questions, but were still a bit timid and jealous of each other, but also excited. As teenagers they shared boyfriends and played with them, they exchanged boyfriend dates without saying a word, sometimes they played a game and lied to them that there was only one girl.

But for the first time in their adult lives, it was the first time they shared the same man, and the first time they had the same lover. For Deanna, it felt odd and unbelievable.

“What do we do?” She asked. When they calmed down, Delia made an unprecedented move-removing her bulky jacket and hunkering down on the couch with her entire body, her breasts half exposed in her slutty yellow silk lingerie.

“I don’t know,” Delia replied, and played with her straps blankly, “but either way, we must decide tonight.”

“Why?”

“At eight o’clock, Jack is coming for ‘Dee’.”

“Shit!”

“That’s right!”

“You want him about as much as I do, don’t you?” Deanna said calmly, and knew she didn’t even have to ask. This sister she was sitting with was a whole new Delia, a vibrant, horny Delia, completely different from the repressed and loyal girl she used to be, who used to repress her emotions because of that horrible Russell.

“Yeah, I’d love to say ‘good luck with him,’ but I can’t, I really can’t.”

“Honey, so am I. So now there’s only one way to fix it.”

“Jesus! Deanna, we haven’t played this game since we were fifteen.”

“It’s the only way, do you have any coins?”

As she watched her sister reach for her purse and pull out a ten-cent coin, Deanna shuddered and picked heads, and couldn’t be sure she wanted it to come up.

Delia tossed the copper plate and nimbly grasped it before the side with the human head appeared. “Gemini Game, Round 1, played by Deanna,” she said with a shrug and a half-envious, half-relaxed smile. “Hurry up, we’d better pick out what you’re going to wear, he said to dress to impress. Deanna, I don’t think I can find an impressive one in your closet.”

“Nonsense.” Deanna denied and stood, following her sister. She supposed it was a matter of taste, but it was going out with Jack and she knew Delia was probably right.

It was seven-fifty and Deanna’s heart was racing. Even though Delia said she looked stunning, she wasn’t really sure as far as her eyes were concerned.

From their closets and cosmetics, they created a synthesis called “Dee”. A woman so wild and so gentle she’ll charm men all over the planet. Even a millionaire of mixed Japanese descent, who prefers the kind of sex that happens at the drop of a hat.

In the apartment, in the narrow antique mirror in the hallway, Deanna observed the dress and felt her confidence waver a little.

The blouse was hers, a colorful, metallic sequined blouse, and Delia was a bit distrustful of it until Deanna showed her the label of its designer and she changed her mind. It was really striking and tasteful. It wrapped tightly around Deanna’s bra-less breasts. Jack must have only noticed her body, not that it was only worth fifteen pounds at a holiday flea market.

Both girls knew their “boyfriends” had a preference for leather, so they chose a leather black dress. It was Delia’s, but she didn’t wear it often. She liked the dress, but there were few appropriate occasions for her to wear it. However it was two inches above the knee and not a tight fitting style, a far cry from Deanna’s preference for eye-catching styles. Delia also insisted that she wear gray pants rather than bare legs, and that Deanna remove all the jewelry she already wore. Deanna frowned at the earrings and bracelet, the few things she was allowed to wear. She had complained at first, but now had to admit that her sister was right. It was the same with the hair, sexy hairpieces and a few tendrils that stretched out to the sides. Even the makeup was on point. Deanna, however, had snuck on a brighter layer of lipstick and a pair of three-inch heels – which she’d found by accident at the market.

“You’re pretty, kiddo,” she whispered to herself, but adjusted her tone, “but for how much longer?”

Delia said that Jack was going to take “Dee” somewhere, but in both of their experiences, he had wanted them almost immediately. Deanna imagined his fingers stroking her body, and this time exploring where he would have gone. The slender hand, like the one that had touched her in the gallery, would soon slide between her legs and discover her barely covered bottom.

But Deanna, this is what you want!

It was true, of course, and as she opened the door a tiny crack, she saw a long shadow slowly pulling into the driveway, and the skin all over her body – covered or not by her clothes – began to quiver with eager anticipation.

Deanna just walked out, and waved to the people in the big sedan that she couldn’t see very well yet. And Delia hid in a neighbor’s house and peeked in.

When the sexy black sedan pulled up, the driver’s door opened and a man – but not Jack – stepped out.

Deanna hesitated for a moment, then continued forward while the driver – a tall, unsmiling blonde and dressed head-to-toe in black – went to the door of the one closest to her and opened it for her without a word.

The non-speaking driver made her nervous, but to a far lesser degree than the one in the car.

“Dee …… you look beautiful.” Jack murmured as she reached him. “I’m so glad I didn’t have to waste time waiting for you. That’s what a really sexy woman should be, my sweet. Move fast.”

Move fast. She doubted the truth of his words. Then remembered his incredible sexual prowess and insight. Surely he knew she was horny and ready for him. There was that woman who wouldn’t want to be with a man like Jack. He’d all but made her faint when his cold hands took her small, warm ones and began kissing.

Dressed to impress. The words kept ringing in her ears. And although she had tried her best to make herself very noticeable, she still couldn’t match this man beside her.

Though obviously not the same one, he was wearing leather pants again. There was a subtle but still recognizable texture to that leather, and the style was of a tight fit. Jack also wore a soft white silk shirt, loose to tone down their extremely manly owner. Its sleeves were wide and Byronic, while its collar was narrow and straight. And the snowy whiteness of the shirt accentuated Jack’s yellow face, and Deanna already felt her desire begin to rise. When the car door snapped shut, all she could think about was lying completely naked on the spacious, soft, and also leather seat, body down, and with her pussy already wet. Her whole body had been prepared just to meet this godlike man.

And he seemed to see it.

“Only this morning?” He whispered. His eyes were like blue lasers in the dim, soft light as he kissed his hands again and held them tightly, turning them over and licking her palms.

Deanna remembered with sudden trepidation what Jack had done this morning. What he had done with her sister …… and how she could actually empathize with it as she imagined the two of them together. She felt her pussy twitching as if he was licking it. And she also felt a hot stream soaking her thin silk panties. Oh, please, just one more time! Just now! Do it with me!

As he held it in his hand, she felt weak all over, like an inanimate object. Her only remaining sentience was to wait. Waiting. The car was moving now, but it seemed to have wings that sprang out of nowhere and led them to the moon.

“You’re ready, aren’t you?” Jack said flirtatiously, noticing the way she looked. He looked at her breasts as they rippled under the shiny corset. She noticed the way he was paying attention to her as if he was picking out a gourmet meal. He leaned closer, almost touching her lips. He ran one finger over her brilliant red lipstick and studied its traces.

“It’s so pretty, it shouldn’t be spoiled.” With that, Jack didn’t want to ruin her flawless makeup, so he just kissed her neck, licking it and savoring it. All the while his hands gripped her sequin encrusted breasts. He nibbled on the soft skin of her neck and pinched her swollen nipples. The faint, sweet pain made her squirm and whimper. She glanced through the glass in front of her at the blond man seated in front of her and felt she couldn’t keep quiet any longer. As if reading her mind, Jack closed her worried eyes.

“We are soundproofed, Di. And don’t worry, Fagot has seen more than enough for a long time ……” His fingertips squeezed her gently while she squirmed again. “Nice, isn’t it! Doesn’t this feel good! Sweetheart?” His soft voice sounded as if he was in deep thought. “I love seeing you aroused in front of a crowd. Your pussy is naked and quivering, and it will bring pleasure to many, not just me. You are already wet and so horny in that place. While the audience enjoys it, my fingers will play inside you ……”

“Don’t, that’s horrible! It’s a lie! Cheat! Liar!”

But he knows …….

“It’s not scary at all, and you know it yourself.” He spoke in a low, deep voice, and his hands were tugging lightly at her nipples in a slow, wicked rhythm. “When you hang out at the gallery and look at my paintings …… you’re actually admired by more people than any of them. Why else would you be so thinly dressed and so naked down there?”

Without warning, he suddenly took hold of her large breasts and began to caress them. She could only make a token protest, but her nails were already digging into the seat cushion.

“This morning is so wonderful.” He tenderly continued to stroke her body and nipples as if to make sure they were still firm. “You’re a beautiful working girl, hungry for fulfillment and sex. Dee, there’s something I want to tell you ……” He studied her bare nipples before placing his hands on the edge of her skirt and tugging relentlessly. “You’re such a slut. Wild, and easy to hook up with. How many women would let a man they’ve only known a short time touch her between the legs. You’re a slut, a pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

She shook her head, but her garter was showing. The thighs over those nylons were unexpectedly soft and creamy. Jack stopped a metric centimeter away near her pussy. While she gasped and was resting, he impaled himself roughly on her pussy door via those cobwebby stockings.

“Don’t,” she couldn’t help but sob as he rubbed her clit through the sock. Tonight, she wished she could be a little more sensible, a little more in control of things. At least she promised Delia she’d try.

“Take these off.” He suddenly spoke in a flat voice. He had already removed her skirt. Now she, in turn, hooked her fingers into her panties. How beautiful, endearing, and shiny it had been, but now they seemed to have become a hindrance. With growing lust, she raised her hips to assist him so that her quivering pussy could be exposed. Yet the artist’s instinct in her made her despise the unadorned. Because it was hot, she hadn’t wanted to wear stockings, but they did form a graceful curve around her belly, subtly adorning her bottom.

Jack nonchalantly pulled her stockings down to her knees-which looked rather more obscene now than when they were all off-and Jack opened her knees with his hands. His touch was uniformly so gentle and respectful, as if he were afraid of her stockings.

“That’s lovely.” He said, and slipped his hand underneath her, that place between her legs, and pressed her breasts against the edge of the chair.

It was like being on exhibition, her whole body reddened and heated. She closed her eyes and spread her legs lazily apart while Jack still gripped her ankles. The cool, fresh air felt so sweet, and a naughty breeze blew in through the doorway and played on her juicy pussy. The tight, swollen cunt seemed to throb and quiver. It was as if someone had reached out and stroked it. And she felt Jack studying it, which frightened and shamed her.

“Mmmm ……” he whispered. Instead of touching the clit that was begging to be stroked, he instead butted her pussy lips with his big thumb.

Deanna felt the most completely naked in front of Jack this time, not the one in the gallery. She balled her hands into fists and pulled him toward her body. Strangely, he patted her hands gently and returned them to the chair.

“We are going to be going to a private house. The drive is about forty-five minutes.” He said, and with a sudden lack of emotion in that voice. “I want you to lie in this position until we arrive, and present everything for me …… as if it were a test that must be passed.”

Had it been thirty-six hours ago, Deanna would have protested, and resisted, and asked a whole host of questions. But now she was compelled. She stayed perfectly still, her eyes closed, and she didn’t say a word. She moaned when he slipped a finger into her hot, slippery pussy, but immediately quieted down again – though she’d already experienced a weak orgasm – and listened to Jack’s lewd words.

He talked about that sex at the gallery, and the moment when he was particularly excited. He mentioned the way he was about to treat her body, and what he wanted her to do with his body. He describes explicitly what he sees before his eyes, every bit of her – about how she looks, smells, and tastes, and so on. And he ran his fingers over her, then back to her moist pussy.

She had reached orgasm several times. Once from his words, once from the penetration of his fingers, and once from Jack rubbing her clit without warning. Deanna didn’t, and could barely keep her eyes open. But after their car had been traveling for some time, Deanna’s sixth sense told her that they were nearing their destination. She felt him take a towel and wipe her eyes as they had been watering from shame. His face was only inches from hers as he wiped them. And thanks to the, mesmerizing smell of cologne emanating from him, she had another orgasm.

When the car stopped, she moved – even though her pussy was still in a state of penetration.

“Don’t move!” He became harsh, and cold.

As the car door opened, Deanna felt her heart beat faster and also felt a gust of hot, stuffy, urban air flow into her contributed pussy. For her part, she tried to turn her head away to hide her flushed cheeks. She opened her eyes even tighter, as if she couldn’t see anyone else if she couldn’t see herself, and they couldn’t see her. But Jack seemed intent on humiliating her even more, and with his free hand, he carefully turned her head toward the now-open car door, then softly commanded.

“Now open your eyes, Dee.”

Even though she obeyed him, he began to masturbate her, and he did it roughly, and almost violently. She no longer wanted to cry. She looked directly into the driver’s cold, unperturbed eyes, but could not see a single reaction. Even as she reached a womb-twisting orgasm and cooed out her pleasure, rocking her hips and bouncing on the leather seat, he still didn’t react.

She was an exhibit, a show, a helpless female thing to be stimulated in front of her servant for her master’s pleasure. She felt a pang of shame she had never felt before, and yet she climaxed, and her pleasure was immense, and somehow seemed to be even greater because of that humiliation.

“Okay, Fargo,” the man who had just ravished her said calmly. And the driver received his orders and left, leaving Deanna still naked.

“Come on, Di,” Jack said, while Deanna shrank back. She hated the idea of a stranger suddenly passing by and looking in at the car, seeing her soft, pink pussy, uncovered and pulsing softly.

She felt as if she were in a wet dream, and also felt dazed, like a prisoner. She froze and bent down to pull on her panties.

“No, I think it’s better if I don’t.” He said and reached down and took her panties off her feet. “I like you better uncovered.”

For a moment she thought he wanted her to walk out of the car with her bottom completely naked: but when she pulled up her skirt, he had no objection. She grabbed her purse and struggled out of the car as if she had some kind of demon on her ass. She didn’t dare look at the front seat because Fargo sat there motionless. But when she glanced into the car, she noticed that Jake had dropped her panties in the middle of the chair and seemed to look at them for a moment. Only then did he grin wickedly and walk her away from that car Yu, and still with his familiar, effortless grace.

Still smiling, and taking her hand, he led her to a large, elegant house.

The place seemed dull and mysterious. There was no sign or logo on the front, except for a shiny brass plaque on its dark-colored front door, which read “Number Seventeen.”

CHAPTER FOUR: Seventeen.

Jack stared at Deanna, rang the doorbell, and then said “Diggle” into a nondescript intercom in the doorway. His eyes were hazy and cloudy at this point in the day, when the sky was just now moderating. But the honesty between them had numbed her even more. As she walked, she could feel the bloody flesh of her legs asking and the wet stickiness of her pussy quite clearly, and even more so, she felt that Jack knew these things as well. He was surveying this artifact he had recently exhibited and was enjoying himself. He was also looking through her clothes with his lustful eyes and obsessing over what he was doing to her body. Deanna felt reassured that her dress was leather and firm, otherwise the thin material would have gotten soaked with her bodily fluids as soon as she sat down.

The door opened noiselessly and a man in formal dress welcomed them in. The man greeted Jack in a very flattering manner and was completely oblivious to Deanna’s presence. It made her think that perhaps this ass-kisser had seen what had happened in the car as well as the silent Fagot. Jack escorted her into the house with care and courtesy, but it was obvious that to this head servant-or whoever he was-she was nothing more than a sex toy for her master.

Once inside, the house was an elegant, but featureless, place that didn’t know what to consider a venue.

It was hard to tell if it was a private residence, a club of some sort, or a fancy brothel. For some reason, Deanna thought it might be all three at once. But once they were ushered into a long, spacious, gray-lit room, the club speculation became most likely.

At one end of the room, there was a slight raised area covered with polished wooden planks, clearly a makeshift stage. Many white tablecloth tables were scattered about the dank room, and groups of people sat there chatting quietly, as if in anticipation of something. Some of them turned their heads to stare at her and Jack as they passed, and for a moment Deanna had a horrible thought, wondering if she was the main show of the night!

They were led to one of the tables, and Deanna sat down before sighing with relief and looking around reassuringly, but with great surprise.

“Seventeen was by no means your average house, and it certainly wasn’t your average club. She and Jack were probably the most conservatively dressed of its patrons, and if she wasn’t wearing a leather dress and high heels, she might have felt more like an anomaly.

A black woman at a neighboring table was very elegantly made up and appeared to be fully clothed in leather. Tight, shiny black leather wrapped around the part of her that was above the table and could be seen. And even though Deanna was looking at her, she still had the zippered part of her upper body open, revealing chocolate-colored, cherry-topped breasts, and was letting the man next to her suck on them. The man seemed perfectly happy to do so, mostly because there was no other way he could touch her. His hands rested awkwardly on the white tablecloth, cuffed by heavy metal handcuffs. As far as Deanna could see, the cuffs were the only thing he was wearing.

Startled, Deanna turned her head toward the table next to Jack.

The only other person at that table – a distinguished-looking, gray-haired man in a tuxedo – appeared to be suffering from a heart condition at first glance. Deanna was about to send an alert to Jack when she suddenly stopped just in time, and gasped backwards.

She suddenly understood the significance of the man’s distinctive grunts and convulsions. Knowing that, she listened excitedly to his moving moans and watched as he threw his head back violently, gripped the white tablecloth, and, almost, spilled his champagne.

For a long time, the man was perfectly still – only when a young woman with straight black hair wriggled out from under the table and sat down meekly next to him did he move slightly and smile broadly. She wasn’t naked like the hedonistic providers at the other tables, but her clothing was far more sensational than nudity.

Thin black leather straps wrapped around her entire body like a specially tailored cage. Her exposed snow-white breasts were particularly compressed, bulging painfully as if they had been shoved in via a pair of too-small iron rings. Her gray-haired partner, having recovered from his post-orgasmic semi-consciousness, reached out and pinched her nipples, and she winced.

“What is this place?” Deanna asked, breaking the silence with a horrified hush.

“It’s ‘seventeen’, Di.” Jack answered her in a low voice and patted her hand, his soft white shirt brushing her arm like a cold fire. “Can you please be quiet now? The show is about to start.”

Deanna had been too appalled to want to argue and had to obey him. It’s wonderful that we’ve come to a madhouse, she thought. A woman dressed as a French maid brought them champagne and glasses. What kind of show did such an amazed audience expect?

After a few seconds, the lights went from dim to dimmer, and hidden spotlights began to turn on that stage. Jack and Deanna’s seats were closest to the stage, and that’s when Deanna felt they were reserved the best seats in the place. Jack poured her a glass of champagne, and as she took a grateful sip, she realized that even the champagne was probably one of the finest available today.

Jack seemed very much at home here, she observed. Some sort of slightly swinging, slightly oriental-flavored music began to play. This was an object club and he was the guest of honor. How the hell did I get myself into this?

Supposed to reel us in, she amended, remembering her lie and pondering what Delia would think of Seventeen and its patrons. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, realizing that the chair was made of – surprise – fine soft leather. Deanna clenched up as her pussy began to giggle and started sucking utterances like a mouth. She wasn’t as comfortable as Jack, but there was no doubt that the place did stir her lust.

Without warning, two figures suddenly appeared in the bright white circle of the spotlight. They were two men, one of them very thin with long blonde hair, the other a tall black man with a stupidly muscular body. Both of them were very subtly made up, and more so than Deanna. Both were also completely nude, rubbed with a thin layer of oil that enhanced their shiny, de-haired bodies.

As the music got louder and more intricate, the two men began to move to the rhythm, able to wrap their limbs around each other’s bodies, writhing slowly in a ballet of carnal desire. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, and for a few seconds they had simultaneous erections as they wriggled and caressed. Mysterious signals seemed to pass between them as they turned to face each other, placed their hands on each other’s hips, knelt obscenely, and began to duel with their glistening but hard sexes. First the blonde, then the black man, both dancers took the tips of their cocks and rubbed them against each other’s bellies and pussies.

Deanna found the performance, while fascinating, somewhat excruciating. For her own body resonated with their carnal desires to such an extent that it was vaguely painful. She knew exactly what she wanted them to do to each other. It was to be like a pair of true lovers, though, at best, they were just playing and teasing each other. It was almost like a lance match, only with weapons that were their private, and shared, stiletto.

The performance had no idea what effect it would have on the others, she thought. Her own sex, already warmed up by Jack in the car, was now rolling with need. She even had the feeling of being consumed. It was uncomfortable to just sit there and watch those two men’s hips jumping and twitching, so she surreptitiously, a little later, opened her legs. The urge to slide her hands under the table was too much for her to resist, and she knew that even if she did, she wouldn’t be the only one masturbating in the room. She might be one of the few who wasn’t stroking herself, but this environment was truly so new to her, so new that she didn’t know how to take it. Subconsciously, she shifted her eyes from the rotating bodies on the stage to Jack in the darkness.

The partner who had corrupted her was smiling freely. And was looking straight at her. When their eyes met, he slowly licked his lips before letting one hand slip off the tablecloth. After it became obvious that he had found his target, his body quaked slightly as a signal …… to her.

What’s the matter with you? She cross-examined – wordlessly, because she was afraid to speak. The performance on stage was gay, yet it was obvious that Jack found it provocative. This added to Deanna’s excitement. Undoubtedly Jack was touching himself now, and Deanna almost screamed at the thought. She thought of that one time she had seen his cock – on that wonderful white terrace, after making love. And she thought of it now, too, imagining it and how it felt, even though its thickness might be compressed under his leather pants. He gasped mildly, making her wonder if he had unzipped and released his slightly aching pleasure …… But a louder, more plaintive gasp turned her already boiling attention to the stage to the lights, to the two smooth, fully anointed men.

They were now joined in a new way, the blonde one behind the other, limbs spread wide; a somewhat different position than Deanna had originally thought. She had assumed that the taller one would play the dominant role in this last, inevitable fuck; but mistakenly, it turned out to be the smaller, blonde one. He was nipping at his partner’s polished, ebony-colored shoulders and thrusting his stiff, reddish sex into his groin. They were fucking like they were really fucking, and even the audience couldn’t hold back. Even when the black man leaned forward and spread his legs wide, then reached behind him to open access for his partner, many had more than just gasped. Carefully and calmly he braced his hips with his fingers, allowing the blonde one to push forward, his cock jabbing forward as if it were a real weapon, squeezing himself inside the target.

The black man began to moan loudly and joyfully and began to match the invasion from behind. At this point Deanna couldn’t stand it any longer. Blushing and sweating, she then noticed that Jack was eyeballing her. It wouldn’t have changed anything though – she slowly lifted her skirt under the tablecloth and spread her legs wide apart in the chair.

“Yes!” She heard the soft voices coming from nearby, while others were busy applauding the sodomy on stage. “Do it, Dee.” He cooed. “Lift your skirt and stroke yourself. I want to see you climax …… now.”

“I can’t!” She objected. If she pulled her enjoyment up to the point where she could masturbate, her stocking-clad thighs, and bare buttocks could be seen through the chair’s hollowed-out back.

“Don’t let me down, Di.” The coercion was whispered but clear. Driven by it, she shifted her hips in her seat and clumsily pulled up her slim leather skirt. As she pulled her skirt higher, she felt a shudder as she realized how much had been revealed. Her only comfort was the subconscious knowledge that there were many other similar things going on in her neighborhood.

Her pussy door was flooded from her touch, her labia swelling alarmingly, while her nub was even pulled out and teased. That little bud had already been stimulated too much tonight, so when she stroked it, it ached a little. The discomfort chipped away at her, but even so, she still flicked and rubbed it. Her bodily fluids flowed faster than they ever had before, and she cried out softly when her orgasm came like a tidal wave and engulfed her.

The pleasure was sudden and unexpected. And it seemed to take her into her deeper self, away from her surroundings which had turned dark. She wondered how a sexual, almost religious-like experience like this could happen with a group of complete strangers. How something as private as this could be performed in public.

Performed by her, or even by the two men on stage.

Watching the show on stage, despite the pain, she began to caress herself again. The blonde one was clearly in the throes of an orgasm, his already taut hips tightening even more as he padded up on his toes and pounded away. Deanna assumed that he would let go and allow his partner a little relief, but he didn’t. He remained pressed against the black man’s narrow hips, selfishly increasing his force without a thought for the other man’s erection. His partner’s cock seemed to tremble slightly in mid-air before leaping up like a fish on a reef and spitting white semen from the tip.

Deanna had never seen such a sight before-long, spectacular, milky ribbons that just shot out and landed on the stage. She could almost hear it crashing as it dripped down onto the hard and polished floor.

As the last drop of cum shot out like an arc, and as the two males seemed to collapse from ecstasy, the lights were turned off on the stage as well as throughout the house. In the all but soft darkness, Deanna almost felt the smell of sex in the air, vibrating ceaselessly in an eerie and mysterious way.

It was a feeling like being forgotten. As her eyes adjusted, she saw many of the actions that reminded her of the performance she had just seen, going on around her. She also heard muffled gasps and moans. She somewhat expected Jack to reach out and touch her, but when he didn’t, she resumed her masturbation – completely overwhelmed by the warm, sensual darkness.

The tenderness of her clitoris made her huff and puff, but she couldn’t stop, just as she couldn’t stop breathing. Her consciousness rose again, enjoying the pleasure, soaring high. Just as she fingered her own wet, sticky body, she felt Jack nearby, fingering his own. She imagined his cock being freed from his leather pants, and being given a show of strength by his caresses. She recalled the fuck on the terrace, and him straddling her back, just as the blonde sodomite had done to the black man. Strangely, she also “remembered” her sister’s experience of being licked and touched, and the burning question of whether he “had, or had not, entered her”.

Then came the thought of her replying to herself, followed yet again by her being touched and played with, even displayed, inside the limo. She couldn’t help but whimper at the thought of this evil deed and her humiliation. And yet, also the thought of how the humiliation enhanced her orgasm. Her tweaking of her clitoris became more and more intense, and after a long, wet outburst, she climaxed again, when the lights in the room began to gradually strike on. Deanna’s vision was a little blurred by her orgasm, but that didn’t stop her from seeing an amazing sight …… her supposed lover being kissed by a woman!

The embrace was surprising, yet even more surprising was the sensual thrill that followed. Jack drew his neck back in his seat so that the woman could kiss him from the bottom up. The long, brown curve of his neck was almost as sensational as the performance on stage earlier. Reason told her she should be jealous, but all she felt was pleasure. The woman was beautiful, pale-skinned and elegant, wearing a blouse and slick black rubberized jeans. Her hair was bright red and passionate, tied back in a thick braid, and hung angrily forward over her shoulders, straddling Jack and lying flat on his bulging shoulders like a shimmering red rope of blood.

God, she’s practically raping him! Deanna thought, aroused anew – and unwillingly – by the rough way the woman had kissed Jack and embraced him. It was only temporary, but the woman had complete control over him, and her white hands became the outer frame of Jack’s tanned face and chin. Her pink tongue dived honestly and clearly deep into his mouth.

Well, that hug finally ended, and the woman stood up like a flower unfurling to meet the sun.

Deanna noticed her moist lips. And it was so naturally, richly, flawlessly red. Their kisses wouldn’t ruin the applied lipstick, because this strange, attractive woman didn’t need it at all.

“Hello, Vida.” Jack lazily, and not too cordially, turned his head in his chair to greet the recent arrival.

“Hello to you too, Kazito, my Japanese gem.” Vida replied in kind, and reached out to touch his high, sloping cheekbones. “I’ve been wondering just how long I’d have to wait for you.”

“Business is busy, honey.” He defended and grabbed her wrist, kissing the inside part of it. “There are always some of us who have to play a lot of tricks of deception to make a living. It’s not possible for everyone to live an original, elitist lifestyle.”

She had been his lover! Deanna thought. Her instincts sounded the alarm. She felt suddenly isolated. What if she was still his lover? Then what am I?

Yet when this mysterious Vida turned to her, she felt warm, felt bathed in the glow of being noticed. The redhead laughed, in her eyes as well as her soft, date-red mouth, and jokingly pinched Jack’s dark cheek again. Before letting him go and refocusing her attention.

“Hello, I’m Veda Mistral. Mistletoe. Who the hell are you?” Her sharp emerald-like eyes embarrassed her deeply and reminded her of the location of his fingers. The name sounded a little familiar now. She was a writer, quite a reputable one. Deanna even had some of her books!

“Don’t bully her, Mistress!” Jack said easily. “Di is under my protection tonight. You’re on your own to find your prey!”

Deanna squirmed uneasily, trying to at least get her skirt down to her legs. It was an awkward and indecent maneuver, however, and it seemed to amuse Vida, who was watching.

“Oh, yes, Dee,” she said gently, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “He makes me like you sometimes, too.”

Before Deanna could speak or react in any way, she had grabbed her hand and kissed the residual bodily fluids on her fingers.

“It’s delicious,” she whispered, her turquoise eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you forget about this loser and come home with me tonight?” She made a fond but denying gesture to Jack. Jack, on the other hand, seemed to be as enamored of Deanna’s flushed pink cheeks as the rubber-bound writer.

“Not tonight, Misty Trey.” He said. And stood up suddenly and elegantly. “It’s late, and Di and I haven’t even started yet.” His narrow hand fell absently to the leather-covered straddle and the swell that had formed from the obvious erection.

Deanna was shaking with anger now. Instead, as if he were a magician, Jack delicately and accurately reached out for her to stand up and straightened her skirt smoothly and unnoticed. At this point, Deanna felt nothing but helplessness, not knowing what to do. Both Jack and this ridiculous woman seemed to treat her like an object or property – and yet, unwillingly, she rather liked the feeling. It was crazy, but Jack’s offhanded reference to the fact that he and Deirdre hadn’t “started” yet suddenly made Deanna want him very badly. Her bare pussy gurgled as her skirt slid down; and she suddenly had the unthinking urge to lie down on the table in front of them. She wanted Jack to touch her and make love to the ground, and she even wanted Veda to watch.

Just as she was thinking her ridiculous thoughts, Jack leaned in to her ear and told her, “Come on, honey.” “We have very little time left, and I can’t wait to enter you.” He slid up beside her and carefully pushed against her hips with his belly. The bulge under his leather pants was no fantasy; he was already as hard as a rock, as hard as he’d been at the gallery, and even harder if possible.

“Bye, Di.” Veda happily bid her goodbye as they walked past her. “We’ll see you again soon.” A light fired from her eyes. Scattered across the room, in the obscene darkness. Like a blinding, razor-sharp light, frightening, yet exciting. Deanna felt a pleasant softness between her legs that didn’t seem like it should happen to a woman. She was almost relieved when Jack steadily placed a hand on her leather-covered hip and pushed her forward. She felt him gesture back to Vida in some way, but she no longer dared to look away herself.

When they came out, the big sedan drove up to them quietly, even though Deanna hadn’t seen Jack call for it. Could Fargo read minds? Or could Jack be mentally sensitive? God, such a horrible thought!

“What do you think of this Mistletoe person?” Jack asked her as they got in the car and left. Jack seemed to be really psychic. Not only did he sense her confusion about the weird writer, but he also sensed her desire, her new and fiery need for him. And his hand had slipped up her thigh.

This time he didn’t care so much about her stockings, and as he embraced her, she felt nothing but a series of wonderful ruffles that attacked her like a dragnet.

The thin leather skirt had been pulled up.

“I …… think she’s very …… well …… impressive.” She stammered, continually interrupted by the rude way Jack opened her thighs, and his search through the curly bush of her pussy.

“She wants you, it’s obvious.” He said and grasped her clit in his fingertips, just like Veda might have done too.

“No!”

It was a scream, a scream that she wanted to reject out of panic, but what to reject, she wasn’t sure.

Was it denying the pain in her clitoris from excessive hedonism, or was it denying this urge to ignore the pain? Or does Shishu try to deny the fact that an active lesbian wants her, and she wants it too?

“Be, beautiful Di.” There was laughter and desire in his voice. He played with her pussy lips now, pulling and tugging at them, creating more little aches and pains, and that only made her cum flow more and more.

“I want to see you do it with a woman.” He said almost absentmindedly, too busy rubbing and gently rocking the soft, lewd spot between her legs.

“I don’t know what you’d do,” he whispered. “What would you do with this …… Gosh, this isn’t very nice.”

He twitched, losing the smoothness and mastery he usually had. He turned around and sat down in his seat, opening his thighs which were encased in leather pants. “Today has to be a quickie too, I’ve just been tasked to fly to Zurich tonight, but I want to get into you before I leave.” His half-closed eyes became even more narrow and sensual as he reached for his belt. Without looking, he unbuckled the belt and with a chorus of voices lowered his expensive leather pants, freeing his bare, swollen cock.

It stands upright in this closed, waiting atmosphere, like a tower. A red, thick tower that rose from two rows of shiny, dangerous teeth. Deanna hadn’t seen Jack wearing any type of underwear, but he didn’t seem to care one bit about the danger that could jeopardize his performance. In fact, when he started rubbing himself, it looked as if he was enjoying the danger, and the danger from the zipper seemed to make his erection even harder than usual.

“Straddle up.” He relinquished his masturbation and pushed her skirt higher. Then he grabbed her hips and helped her get into position.

As his glans pierced her cunt, she screamed in her mind, Finally! Finally! Finally! She bobbed up and down, using no force at all. She kept her eyes closed as she sank, and at that point his length and width seemed to partially increase and penetrate her endlessly. She felt the zipper enter her pussy lips as well, but she no longer felt pain in the face of such a powerful and filling sensation. She felt as if no man had ever penetrated her so deeply before. He continued to crowd with his glans, and the flesh and blood surrounding him inside her was like a taut ribbon tied around her clit. She didn’t want to move, nor did she want him to. All she wanted was to be there, straddling him, letting her fiery female core receive his thrusts.

When she felt his hand on her blouse, her eyes snapped open to witness a scene of destruction. Oh no, not this beautiful, shiny blouse of hers! He twisted it to her waist, revealing breasts with nipples as beautiful as berries, while the sequins on the dress popped and flew off with it.

“Hey, you asshole! Look what you’ve done!” She yelled angrily, just managing that they were still bonded together.

“I’ll buy you a hundred tops.” He growled back at her, grabbing one side of her breast with one hand and squeezing.

“God, lady, you’re so beautiful!” He continued to twist and turn her soft, slightly aching tits while she moaned from the vibrations and tremors of her pussy door. The silvery, silken straps were even tighter now, as if they were linked by magic to the breasts he was destroying.

Having reached her climax, Deanna looked out over Jack’s shoulder as if she saw nothing but carnal ecstasy. The streets of the night flew past her as usual, yet she watched them distantly as if she were a goddess in the sky.

A middle-aged woman had tried to get a good look inside the car, then seemed to cringe at the sight of Deanna’s half-naked body. Another young boy waved and whistled as if he could see very well ……

And Deanna’s pussy seemed to respond with the gurgling sounds of the sex she had just had with this man still inside her.

When the car stopped at a red light, Jack let out a moan and kissed Deanna furiously before jerking like a deranged puppet and shooting his warm cum all over her womb.

After some more time, in another world, the traffic light turned back to green. But as the black sedan refueled and moved forward, the pair of lovers in the back seat didn’t notice …….

Chapter V. The Warmth of the Family

It was stupid to keep looking out the window, but Delia couldn’t restrain herself. She needed to see Jack, she just needed to see him, even if it meant that the game was over before it could properly begin.

“What’s wrong, Delia? What the hell is going on? Why don’t you see this man?”

The sound of Peter’s voice, right behind her, made her almost jump out of her skin. She had been waiting for him to ask a question, but the fact that he was so vehement when he did scared her. Hearing his normally gentle, husky voice become short and sharp with anger did shock her, but for some reason, it also made her hate pleasant. It was like when the fat cat you have puts its ears back and growls at you, but is thus adorable, nasty, and beautiful.

She shifted slightly, putting the curtains back in place, and turned her back to the window. She’d probably missed Jack and Deanna anyway.

Peter, what a nice guy. He always showed up when they needed him: with a token cup full of sugar, or whatever flavor they might ask for.

“It’s a long story, Peter,” she said, still perplexed in her mind by his unexpected anger. “But if you have an hour or two, I can tell you the whole appalling details.”

Even as she still watched, his annoyance had faded. The expression of displeasure had also left his thin and plainly handsome face, giving him a chance to speak as usual.

“I don’t only have two hours yet, Delia.” He smiled, slightly like Mr. Nice Guy “Little Pete” again. “I’ve got an apartment that needs a female to light it up, and a couple bottles of fruity wine that’s strong as rocket fuel and just the right vintage for drinking.”

Delia started shaking. Peter’s homemade wine is great, but it will give you a headache the next morning.

“Come on!” She said decisively, unable to resist the temptation to forget Jack Diggle by drinking. She could not resist the temptation to forget Jack Diggle by drinking. Especially in this clean, elegantly decorated apartment …… only one floor above her own …… which was much cooler at night than her stiflingly hot apartment. As soon as she had drunk enough wine to forget what had happened, she could stop being controlled by the temperature. Then she could slowly feel her way downstairs and summon Prince Jack into her drunken dreams of total oblivion.

Gentle Peter, their upstairs neighbor, had brown hair, a pale and almost leathery body, and maroon eyes with tortoiseshell-framed glasses that seemed wise. He was no Diggle, no illusory god of sex, but there was a special charm about him tonight. And he was certainly so much better than Russell, she thought guiltily, realizing how little time she had to think about this so-called boyfriend of hers. It had been a wild day, no doubt, but as soon as she’d left his apartment, she’d almost forgotten he existed. And she had to hurry up and do ‘that’ too.

“Well, tell me about it,” Peter said, and shrank his body into the seat across from hers before taking a long, cold, sip of his homemade wine.

“Well, did I mention that ‘lord of lords’ to you?” She paused to take a sip of her drink, then couldn’t speak for a good thirty seconds. Its strong, full fruity flavor exploded on her tongue …… then seemed to help descale the inside of her throat. “Wow, Petey, this stuff is killing me!” She wailed, pouring out another careful sip.

“The lord of lords,” he mentioned for her, causing Delia to sharply turn her eyes upward. At that moment the sexy, angry, dangerous man was back, and his puppy-dog-like eyes, hidden behind the thick lenses that helped his vision, suddenly looked very dangerous and cold.

Slowly, she began. Slowly, because the story was at first glance very lewd and therefore needed to be told carefully. She did nothing, however, because her subject was Little Pete, her and Deanna’s best buddy, the one they could share all their joys and sorrows with.

Even talking about sex became much easier when the bottle was empty. As the spirits slid more comfortably down her throat, talking about Jake in full became natural. Without thinking, she started talking about his lips, his hands, and his cock. And then, with a drunken grin, she talked about the misunderstanding of their identities, and the game of Twins. It seemed suddenly to be a perfectly reasonable and acceptable way of doing things, for her. For them …….

After the wine had warmed her belly, and below, she wasn’t at all ashamed to describe how much she longed for that night when she was representing herself personally, reunited with her prince, Diggle. And how she longed to be able to enjoy once more, what she had also enjoyed that morning. And how she wanted to know that right now she was making love to Jack, feeling it. Feeling that big, smooth cock, entering her, filling her, just as it had filled Deanna at the fair. And now, as if it had filled her …… in some plush bed, in some secluded hotel or apartment.

“That’s not fair, Pee-wee!” She said, knowing that she was already slurring her words and leaning back in her armchair in an ugly position. Her legs were splayed out to the sides in a position that was almost exactly like what she had done on Jack’s couch. She was drunk, but that didn’t seem to matter. Nothing mattered except that Jack wasn’t inside her. She’d already lost the coin-flip guessing game of heads and tails, and now the burning female privates wanted her to pay for it.

“It’s so unfair,” she intoned carefully and tugged messily at her knickers, which had suddenly become uncomfortable and clung obnoxiously between her hot, slender legs. “He thinks he’s got ‘Delia’ but he hasn’t, he’s only got ‘Dionna’!” She raised her glass again, surprised that it was full again. There was already an empty bottle on the table. “I love her, Pee-wee, I do! But then I was hoping she’d sprain her ankle or something.”

“Me too.”

The numbness and indifferent solemnity in Peter’s voice startled Delia again. It pulled her back to wakefulness. What was he like, too? Did he also want Deanna to sprain her ankle or something else?

Delia looked up from her mug, her vision clearer, and she saw someone completely different from the Peter she had known and loved before. It was an angry man. A person who was aroused. Someone whose passion burned like fire, not the mild-mannered, almost asexual friend she had always taken for granted.

“You’re in love with Deanna, aren’t you?” She snapped in realization.

“Uh-huh.” He replied unhappily. Suddenly, as if he couldn’t stand the warmth either, he ripped off his baggy white T-shirt, messing up his hair in the process. At some point, he took off his Mad Professor glasses, without which his eyes seemed ten times brighter than usual. Or was it the lust that made him this way? Delia seemed to be back to her slightly drunken state, and couldn’t figure out what was going on.

“This must be very strange for you.” He continued and paused to swallow more wine. “I mean I’m in love with a woman who looks exactly like you.”

“It’s actually not as weird as you think.” Delia replied. She took another sip of her spill while an incredible idea came to her.

In the midst of this sluggish, simple, not at all lucid reasoning, she came up with a solution that would solve their problems. A solution to her and Peter’s sexual dilemma.

“Do you want to make love to her?” She asked nonchalantly as the fire in her belly began to cool. She could now see the vision in her mind’s eye. A vision of Deanna, her legs spread wide and being possessed by the dark, merciless Jack.

But no, it wasn’t Deanna! It was herself. It was Delia. Her face! Her body! If she closed her eyes, she could enter that vision: practice it, make it really happen. All she needed was a hard male cock to enter her.

And what would happen if she also created an illusion for the man who provided the penis?

She drained her glass once more and stood up, carefully walking across the room. Very carefully, for the room seemed …… to be shaking …… very slightly …… She removed her own T-shirt and collapsed onto the couch next to Peter, then covered her bare breasts with her hands , presenting them to Peter like a pair of soft, ripe fruits.

“Make love to me, Peter.” She said in a weak voice and obscenely warped and flicked her nipples to make them harden and straighten up for him.

“Delia, I don’t ……”

“It’s ‘Di,'” she corrected him, “Di. Ferraro. It’s a game I play, remember?” The wine made her bold, and she reached for his long, thin hands with square, clean nails. It was evident that he shivered as she placed them on the material of her puffy breasts.

“Just for tonight, Petey. Please?” Strange as it was, she should very much beg. Because if it had been with Diggle, she would have begged, wouldn’t she?

“But I can tell the difference between you.” Peter replied, his voice suddenly hoarse. He was in denial, but his hand had begun to caress her. And it was clear that he relished it.

“Then count it as a consolation …… if you can’t fake it.”

“Oh, Di,” he sighed as he began to attack her, even if she herself wasn’t sure if it was for comfort. Maybe it was just for fantasy after all? There was a time when she shrank back into herself. Calmly and intently, looking at this real person in front of her with her, not the sexually skilled man who had hijacked her body that morning. Peter was not Jack. He wasn’t dark, he wasn’t mysterious, and he wasn’t a rich, free, insatiable guy. But his smooth, pale body was hard and solid …… and not at all offensive in her eyes.

As he pulled her through, she realized that his hands were thin but strong and held her in a surprisingly tight grip.

His nipple and her own were pressed together. And when his mouth touched hers, he moaned his head there, rocking his body at the same time, as if his natty little nipples felt all the pleasure her larger, rose-red nipples felt.

His tongue wasn’t polite either. Stabbing and tasting their saliva mixed with the flavor of wine. It seemed only a small prelude, a preparation for the greater union later, the more unreserved thrusts. And she gasped, sucking and uttering his mouth.

“You’re too good for me, Di.” He whispered, then sucked her tongue harder in return. He savored the pliable organ as if it were candied fruit or a lollipop. It also seemed like a nipple or a clit. Delia moaned, her loins lifting, slamming against him and taking on a life force they both shared.

There was a slight pressure down there now, a slight smothering, a throbbing, tingling unease, but it brought no discomfort at all. The mouth between her legs seemed to be muttering, begging, even yelling. She hated hunger. Hungry for men, hungry for carnal desire, hungry to be filled …… Defiantly, she continued to think it would be perfect if Diggle were inside her, even though it was actually Peter, and his empty cock, who was with her now. It hardened against her body, pushing toward her privates like a missile that blindly hit its target. Even the layers of clothing couldn’t deflect it from its trajectory.

Suddenly she wished she was lying on the bed right now with her legs wide open to meet his entry.

“Come on, Petey, let’s do it!” She muttered, knowing that she had lost the ability to tell the difference, but powerless to change anything. She fumbled with his shorts, wanting to free his dick, and wanting to be able to touch it.

The buckle on his belt slipped easily through the used buttonholes, but as she was about to undo his zipper, she felt her fingers tighten in his grip.

“Take your time, Di.” He said softly and took her busy hand away from his and put it in her own lap. “I’ve waited a long time for a moment …… like this,” he paused, then smiled like a child like her. “Only to wait for a moment like this one …… I want it to pass slowly. I want to savor it, like I’ve always fantasized.”

It was no longer in that fantasy mode. With her, or as everyone so thought, with Deanna, Jack had always done it in a quick-fire manner. Certainly circumstances had made it necessary for him to do so. And yet, somehow, the slow, leisurely way had never been her image of Jack.

Even as she thought that, she made a decision. She was with Peter now, and it was Peter who was about to enter her. Some other night, Jack would surely let her have …… or she would let Jack have it.

“Let’s go to bed, okay?” She said as she staggered to her feet. She undid her cool linen shorts and pushed them down below her knees, leaving the lining tangled with them. Naked, she took Peter’s hand and motioned for him to stand as well. “I’ve had enough of this rushed approach on the couch, I fantasize about taking my time ‘savoring’ you!”

Now a new Peter appeared in front of her very front, a tantalizing Peter whose shorts got the best promises. Joy was not far away and Delia was ready.

“You’re right. Let’s do this properly.” He took her hand and courteously escorted her into the bedroom.

“Let’s go to bed, shall we …… Delia?”

For some reason, even Peter’s sheets were cool. Delia sighed happily as she lay down and stretched her limbs to her heart’s content. She reached her hands behind her back and took down the ribbons that decorated her hair, letting a head of glossy brown waves fall in a fan-like fashion onto the here white, fluffy pillows. “Come on, Petey, come on.” She urged.

But for a full minute, he just stood still, admiring her naked, honey-colored body.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, abruptly removing his shorts and underwear and laying down beside her.

Who was pretty? She wondered as he began to touch her. She felt a drunken confusion and an indifference born of heat and lust. It didn’t seem to matter whether it was the Diana he wanted, or herself, or this combined character called “Dee”. And it didn’t matter that the fingers on her breasts were Peter’s now …… or now ……. They were cool, gentle, and experienced. Perhaps later, when Deanna returned with Jack in all his glory, it would be necessary to care who he really was. For now, however, it seemed extremely wonderful to be with this understanding, less demanding lover. This skinny man was less confident and had a hesitant sexual style, but his penis was surprising and impressive.

His caresses were slow but felt extremely comfortable …… He seemed to want to imprint the shape of her entire body in his memory. His fingers traveled smoothly and extensively over her body, but did not dive into that area. He seemed content with the less important parts. Like the shoulder blades, the inside of the forearms, or even the curve of the footboards.

She was thinking about wondering if he would lick her pussy, and she also spread her legs apart in readiness and tried to deliberately forget that Jack had licked it only this morning.

But Peter seemed happy just to touch. He stroked her belly, the edges of her pubic hair, and her long legs that were already getting wet and sticky from her bodily fluids. As he stroked her, he kissed her mouth as well, squeezing in toward the head, but this time only gently. He caressed her insides with his tongue and pressed it gently against hers.

The slowness, the deliberate circumspection, it was all so delicious and it made her hungry. Did he know how much it turned her on? She guessed he knew. It was a strange and special experience for him. A dream come true, even if he still called her “Delia” out of politeness. He needed the gradual climax to make the moment last forever. For him, “perfect” must have felt “great” to her, and there would never be a night when alcohol would blur their lines so much.

When he finally touched her clit, she screamed out hoarsely and climaxed immediately. The intensity was incredible. As she gradually regained consciousness, she was amazed that she could feel such amazing excitement and ecstasy without the help of any fantasy at all. As she spread her legs wider and leaned more into his rubbing hand, she knew very well that it was Peter, and even more so that all the joy was due to him. Unconsciously she whispered his name, and when she opened her eyes to his deep, blurred gaze, she was almost certain she saw tears.

“Are you okay?” She reached out to touch his lips, but felt a hint of unexpected arousal. He naturally sucked her fingertips in and began nibbling delicately. His lips were so cool, and his tongue, so moist and soothing.

“Okay.” He replied in a low, deep voice before continuing to nibble on each of her fingers. “I’m fine …… you?”

“Well …… your hands are wonderful, you know that yourself?” She blurted out, hardly thinking at all.

“So are your hands.” As he spoke, he twisted the base of her thumb, the plump part, causing a ripple in her private parts. Suddenly she became very eager for his entry. She wriggled her already sweat-dripping body toward him, cheekily pleading for his penetration.

“Oh, Di.” He shushed her while moving above her. He was surprisingly big and strong for someone so thin and soft. As his cock was about to squeeze into her moist, lust-filled hole, she looked down at the thin, white thing while for a moment imagining it as brown and foreign.

But when this real Peter enters her, the fantasy Jack disappears, forgotten. She still didn’t know exactly who she was to this man who was inside her, but he was Peter, and just wonderful. His cock was hard and satisfying, and his killing spines were long and even.

He can still hold out, she thought happily. She could enjoy all the orgasms she needed without the embarrassing premature ejaculation that she sometimes experienced when she was with Russell.

Her gentle, affectionate Peter may have seemed like a sprinter, but as he began to settle into a smooth, easy rhythm, she was pleased to discover that he was quite capable of lasting, a long-distance runner.

And that thought alone was enough to make it all happen again. She climaxed deeply, fiercely and sweetly again, simply because she had predicted it, knew it, and was more certain of the coming ecstasy …….

He was asleep by the time she left, while she speculated endlessly as to which of the twins it was that he was dreaming about. Whoever it was. She had made him smile.

Wordlessly pacing down the stairs, Delia found herself grinning back.

Who’d have thought? Peter! A soft-spoken super-lover who lived upstairs from them. He’d almost driven shock out of her mind during those few comfortable and exciting hours. Almost ……

As she entered her own apartment, the lingering gloom and stifling heat brought back thoughts of Jack like a mountain. In addition to the thoughts, there was speculation.

What did he do with Deanna tonight? Or what did he do to her? Or what kind of new pleasures had they tried tonight? What kind of positions? Or what kind of sexual inversion?

Delia crawls right into bed and tries to forget all of them. Jack, Peter, Russell, and Deanna. Life and sex were suddenly all so complicated, but they could also become very simple, if you covered your head with a pillow and forgot about them all for a while. Common sense and the beginning of a headache thought otherwise, however, and if she didn’t drink some kind of liquid now, and lots and lots of it, she was digging her grave in the morning. She had once had a hangover from drinking that kind of alcohol …… and, no matter what, she was never going to do it again!

After filling two cups of water, her thirst seemed to change. She had a sudden craving for green herb tea, and as she was about to open the hot water bottle she realized that the water was already full and had only just boiled.

She quickly dipped her tea bag down, grabbed her mug, and stepped toward the living room to see if her sister was there.

Deanna sat alone in the darkness.

A cold hand grabbed Delia’s abdomen. What had happened? Deanna had always liked brightness and light, so why was she hiding in the dark?

When Delia turned the light on and saw her twin sister’s face and body, her fear turned to anger, fierce and pale anger.

Deanna looked as if she would be swept away by a tornado! Their carefully organized hair was now a tangled, crumbling mess. Her lipstick smeared onto her face like cherry juice. And strings of half-fallen sequins dangled from her glamorous leotard. Her all-black pants were now a striped, yellowish, jerky mess spreading in all directions.

“That bastard! He raped you! That unmitigated, hateful bastard!”

Delia felt a sudden, almost stabbing wave of guilt. This was supposed to be her fault. She was the one who had allowed this reckless, sexually courageous sister to fall, and get hurt. The coin toss decision had been nothing more than luck at best, and she knew it, but she just felt like she was responsible. Felt that sitting there, tortured and pudgy should be her …… or maybe worse, she should have to hide under her skirt.

“Actually, he didn’t.”

There was something eerie about her sister’s voice that made her want to look at her a little closer.

Deanna was holding her own cup of tea, and over that cup she was smiling. Such a smile she had seen so often. It was a slow, gentle, sexy, self-absorbed smile, and one that she could never replicate …… even if she had an exact replica of the same face to emulate.

“Oh ……”

“By the way …… Oh.”

“What the hell happened?” She asked. “There must be something …… You look like you’ve been molested by a bunch of men doing rough work!”

“Well, I guess he’s just too horny.”

There was a mysterious falseness to Deanna’s words, and it was a perfect match for her smile. She slid one finger down her stocking while the stripes formed by the draws widened and lengthened. “But it’s the way he made himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Be prepared, old sister.” Now her smile became mischievous. And as Deanna smoothly, vantage-pointedly narrated, her smile became more and more mischievous.

Delia felt hot, and cold, and then hot again. And it was very hot. She thought she had already experienced Jack’s wildness, but what Deanna was telling her was simply crazier. It was like a wild and dark raving that made both the speaker and the listener excited at the same time.

Masturbation, lower body nudity, narcissistic clubs, lesbianism, orgasms in public, sex in front of servants, etc. It was surprising how unusual it all was. What happened in Jack’s office was nothing more than a bull’s-eye for him, almost just average …….

Suddenly, a stark truth presented itself to her. She was Dee, too.

“But I can’t make those things!” She browned out, and looked more and more alarmed.

“No, you can do it, honey.” Deanna said softly. “In a way, you already did. It’s not just the face that’s the same between us, you know that, don’t you? Deep down there ……”

Delia had a sudden craving for Peter’s homemade wine. Herb tea alone could no longer undo this …… because Deanna was right.

They were not enjoying the same pleasures tonight, but their desire for sex was the same. Deanna had found what she was looking for elsewhere, in that brave and dangerous place. But she, Delia, had found equal comfort at home. The character of their experiences was different, but the result was ultimately the same.

“And anyway ……” Deanna was scrutinizing her intently, “Gee, so what have you been doing while I’ve been out?” Her artist’s keen eyes had obviously noticed something. It was some change that even Delia herself had not noticed. “You have an expression that you never had with Russell. You look as if something good had happened to you.”

Crap, if she told Deanna about Peter, she’d have to tell her who Peter loved, too!

“You naughty vixen,” Deanna said, a smile piling up on her face. “You and Peter. Well, well, well, well, why didn’t I ever think of that? Does that coward Russell know?” Her eyes narrowed and became a touch workmanlike. “Does that mean Jack is mine alone?”

“No, that’s odd!” Delia felt wild and nervous, her body and every nerve in her body objecting. This was strange, not like her at all. But what her sister had just said made her want Jack more than ever.

“There’s nothing between Peter and me,” she continued, trying desperately to sound reasonable and calm.

“And there’s nothing between Russell and me anymore.”

Deanna seemed pleased, and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could inevitably ask another question, Delia interjected again.

“This game of Twins has to go on, Deanna,” she said, her voice soft and rigid, “and it’s my turn next time. So you’d better let me know when that …… is.”

chapter vi a man’s geisha

Deanna didn’t know when, or where. Or that Leah found it in her office two days later. Right in the middle of her blotting paper was a blue envelope, and underneath that was a thin leatherette bag, also blue. Frowning, she cut open that envelope with her fingernail and pulled out the not-so-abundant contents. There was nothing more than a sky blue, very high grade, handwritten piece of paper in there.

The short note begins in strong black cursive; Dee, I’m back. I’ll send a car for you at eight o’clock to-night. Prepare yourself first, as you did last time, in easy dress, and take it off well. It was unsigned.

When she finished reading it, an urge made her want to bring it to her face and sniff it. Usually only women used perfume on their letters, but whoever wrote this text message had clearly broken that rule.

Delia smiled. She had guessed correctly; the lovely floral scent of him was indeed on this paper, and it was very strong.

As she took a deep breath of the scent, a wave of romantic memories came over her. Including her own and Deanna’s …… localThe thought of the experiences her sister had told her about made her face hot in a way she couldn’t hide.

The experience was inevitably creepy, but very much a roman à clef. And those ephemeral depictions, coupled with the pervasive sexuality, had occupied Delia’s mind for two days in the heat.

And it’s not just “Jack and Sex”. There’s Peter. She still can’t believe that their Mr. Nice Guy neighbor turned out to be a sexual superhero. She wondered how much alcohol had to do with it. Would he be sober and sensible? Would she herself be, for that matter?

Well done, Delia, she congratulated herself with a sigh. Now you have another situation on your hands. While playing this crazy game with Jack and Deanna, she was not willing to break up with Russell so frankly …… and now you are having an affair with another man!

But will it be just three?

Ever since her first experience in Jack’s office, she’s found herself watching all kinds of men. Including male coworkers she never took a second glance at, boys delivering sandwiches, and wannabes on the street and in stores. She had sized up their faces and bodies almost before she felt it, and then imagined what they would look like when they were naked. Within seconds of light, she’d have them in bed in her mind. Her body perked up as she imagined what each one would do. It was amazing and unlike her personality, but she felt strongly that her sex drive had changed forever. A vapor door had opened inside her and her hormones were flowing out endlessly. She felt already overwhelmed by wild lust, and her urges were coming at her in endless, choppy waves.

Now let’s see what that sentence is!

She set the letter aside and opened the wrapped paper bag. There were two rows of about a dozen, neatly arranged credit cards, all in her name. There were also computer-printed notes that said she could now shop at places she’d only dared to think about and enjoy unlimited credit. There was also a note from Jack explaining why.

I told you I’d pay you a hundred tops.

At first she was a little bewildered, but before long she remembered Deanna’s broken tight top.

That animal! He thinks he can buy us!

Delia felt a wave of dizziness from the mix of flavors in her mind. Anger and aroused emotions fought each other. The proper in-and-out response between a man and a woman was all but destroyed by the sweet depravity of the senses. She was suddenly shocked to realize that they were like high-class prostitutes. Like women who had been provided for, enjoying the gifts of high class in return for the use of their bodies. She drew out a card, then opened the letter again.

Be good to take off! That’s what it says.

As she studied the striking black logo, she felt that urge to be dispatched by the darkness again. That lascivious seduction. Suddenly, everything seemed to make sense again …….

If Jack had been the one to shed his robes, he would have had to pay for those clothes. It was the natural thing to do!

In the end, she wore her own clothes. Or more correctly, hers and Deanna’s.

The soft, wide, pink silk blouse was her favorite; and the tight, black bindings were Deanna’s. Delia had wanted to pick out a pair of dark, bespoke pants, but they had been discarded by Deanna. This madness was sexy and brave in every way. It was their duty to dress up, and to do it together.

At eight o’clock, the car pulled into the driveway and stopped. Inside, the two sisters kissed and hugged. Then one walked toward the foyer and the other back into the darkness.

Delia found the blonde-haired driver a straight-up shiver. His face was little more than a handsome, but expressionless mask, and his hair was cruelly shorn. This is the infamous Fago, she thought. The man who takes his work seriously. He watched her cautiously as she approached, then realized he was carrying a light machine gun for mercenaries. It was hard to imagine that he would be sexually interested. He seemed to be a man who abstained from getting aroused.

“Good night, ma’am.” Fargo’s voice was as serious as his face, but his manner was refined and courteous. As he escorted her into the limousine, Delia found herself imagining what he would look like when he was naked.

The cold leather chair was surprisingly inviting. She felt so familiar with it. Because it evoked dangerous memories and was tightly linked to sex. Deanna had sat here, naked on her pussy. She had fucked Jack’s cock here, her warm thighs straddling him. She had orgasmed in this car, over and over again. Delia could even hear the still lingering aftershocks …… hear the cries of pleasure enjoyed. She almost felt Jack enter her, felt the muscles inside her tightening around him. Fingers slid across the leather chair and she gasped with excitement. The gentle wet heat then seemed to flow into her tightly fitting short shorts.

What would happen later, she hardly dared to think. What did “at home” with Jack Diggle amount to? And he hadn’t mentioned dinner, but she wasn’t hungry anyway. Not for food. It was a bit ghastly that a man would invite a woman to his home just to do something. But Jack was supposed to be a horny guy who didn’t like to beat around the bush. And he didn’t seem to need the games other men played.

She suddenly saw herself in front of him, lying on the couch. Her body lay open in a wide pattern. Her pussy was also completely uncovered. She was shackled by her feet and could not move. He, on the other hand, looked closely at her pussy door.

Then she saw …….

She knelt at his heels and mouthed his cock; the erection was huge and dark. Her mouth watered and her lips surrounded it. She could remember the Prince’s taste …… like it was real …… and she was certain that Jack’s tasted the same, or even more delicious.

Where they were going wasn’t at all as far away as she thought, and she was still having wet dreams when she realized her destination was already here? The powerful and almost completely silent sedan came to a quiet stop. She couldn’t get used to it for a moment, and just stayed where she was until the door beside her was opened.

“Here we are, miss.” Fargo said languidly and put his arm out to assist her out of the car Yu.

We’re here, but where is this?

Delia wasn’t sure where she had expected to end up, but they were now in front of an immaculately maintained eighteenth century mansion. One of those astronomically large houses, surrounded by such beauty that only the very rich could afford them. But then again, Jack was already a rich man. And he was unimaginably rich and powerful. In her fantasy world, he was a prince, but he was probably richer than any member of the royal family. The house with the blue door obviously gave that impression.

There was a woman waiting on the doorstep. It was a slim brunette, wearing a crisp white dress, and shiny black heels. She couldn’t be seen clearly from where Delia stood, but the warm golden light behind her dramatically depicted her slender figure. She was about medium height, and it was only when she leaned forward to greet her that Delia saw a very rare, detailed face. Her features were like a perfect work of relief, long, dark, slightly upturned eyes, and a smile that looked like the sun rising. Since Jack had oriental blood, it seemed obvious that this girl should be from Japan.

“Hello, Dee. My name is Alf. Jack’s not available for the next hour or two, I’m afraid, so he asked me to keep you company.”

Her voice was a little husky, and just as harmonious as her porcelain face. Delia felt a pang of uneasiness.

“Come in.” Alf continued. As they leaned in close, she intimately slid her hand around Delia’s waist. “Don’t be shy, Di, there’s nothing to be afraid of here.”

Delia didn’t know if she was telling the truth, so she had to let herself be led in and vaguely heard the prince leave.

And who the hell are you? Delia wanted to ask this new friend, but her question seemed to dissipate due to the sheer unexpectedness of the situation and the reassurance she gave via contact.

The hall was really spacious, luxurious but simple decoration, making it almost monotonous. Delia remembered what Deanna had said, and wondered if this strange and undistinguished setting …… was the “Seventeenth” club. Club.

Her first impression changed drastically when she saw a large, dazzling painting that hung on the wall across the hall.

In that heavy rococo frame, there was a completely naked couple entwined in sex, and their bodies were meticulously painted. No detail had been left out, not even the subtle differences between the sexes asked, but the painting was elegant and beautiful. Delia knew that Deanna would have expressed a high opinion of the painting, but she herself dared not. Her artist sister could see the subtleties of tone and workmanship in a way that she could not. To Delia, the painting was fucked up at best.

Welcome to the Palace of Joy, she thought wistfully. But by the time they reached a wide and gorgeously carpeted staircase, she was beginning to feel at home herself. And she was also beginning to be intolerably curious about Alf.

“Who are you?” She asked as they reached the top of the steps and were walking towards an open, gray-brown door. “I …… Well …… Jack didn’t mention ……”

“I suppose you could consider me his servant.” This Oriental woman smiled, her face showing forthrightness and joy. “I take care of him. Tend to his every need and happiness ……” She paused, and when she turned her head to face Delia, her smile became twinkling and charming. “I tend to his guests as well. This way, Di. Jack wants me to fulfill your needs.”

Delia’s confusion returned, this time stronger. If he has a woman like you, what the hell does she want with me? She whispered to herself as Elf led the way.

The room they entered was the largest bathing and dressing room Delia had ever seen. A lighted room piled high with peaches, cream, and apricot fruit. There were all the luxuries needed for any imaginable personal cleansing. The bath tub alone was larger than her living room.

“Excuse me …… may I help you undress?” Alf asked politely, as if it was the most common thing in the world to visit a man in the evening and have his maid help you undress.

“Oh …… good.” Delia replied jumping out of her daze. She let Elf take her bag and then slowly undid her billowing shirt. The oriental girl seemed happy to do the task quietly, but Delia’s anxiety made her want to talk.

“Is ‘Elf’ your real name?” She asked, her voice quivering. After removing and neatly folding her shirt, Elf’s next step was to slide her hands behind Delia’s back, unhooking her bra and setting it aside. Her fingers brushed against Delia’s skin while Delia shivered fiercely. Her nipples hardened and stiffened even more. After a few seconds, she began to moan as Alf took away her bra and then covered her breast with her hand. She squeezed it gently and ran her thumbs over the firm bosoms.

“No, that’s just a nickname.” The brunette replied in a thin voice. “My real name is ……” It was such a series of syllables with no iambic pentameter, and it answered a question Delia wasn’t likely to remember at all. After barely a moment of listening, all she could remember was that it was, of course, a Japanese name.

But it was none of Delia’s business if the woman was a Martian. Her fingers were so gentle and deft that their nationality, or even their gender, didn’t matter. The touch brought pure pleasure, inciting Delia to rock her hips in mid-air.

“You’re so sensitive.” Alf whispered and tugged lightly on Delia’s nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Jack told me you had a beautiful reaction.”

She should have been angry at Jack for discussing its body with his servant, but she wasn’t. It didn’t matter what happened when Alf caressed her so softly. Whether that slender hand shifted, flicked, or twisted, it was just as skillful and perfect as what Jack had done days before. It was a strange situation. Jack was distracted …… by other commitments, so he sent his maid to pleasure his latest mistress.

Leiko …… Then came the orgasm. Delia sobbed loudly and had to fight her bent legs again as her hot bodily fluids gushed out of her. She felt her fluids between her pussy lips, like silk, and soaking her soft panties.

“Oh! Oh God!” She whimpered, clutching Alf’s shoulders for support, then like a reed, shaking her body while her pussy throbbed like a heart.

“Take it easy. It doesn’t matter, I can hold you up.” Alf said, stopping her caresses as their purpose had been accomplished. She held Delia close, supporting her as she swayed, and led her to a nearby white couch. After she settled Delia on that, she even coaxed her, like she was calming a frightened child.

“Here, Di, let’s get this off.” She bent down to help Delia remove her soft black flats, then slid back up smoothly, hooking the laces of her stockings with her thumb. “Help me, sweetheart.” She whispered.

Delia did as she was told like a robot, lifting her hips so that Alf could peel off the form-fitting pants.

Now all that was left was a plain but beautiful pair of panties …… She had chosen this one because it was cut in such a way that it didn’t show off her curves. And it was certainly no longer difficult to remove, leaving Delia embarrassed by its wetness. There was a dark, wet, sticky mark on it, but Alf didn’t even seem to notice it …….

This is where most women are conquered, Delia thought. She was beginning to feel wild and hysterical. She smiled nervously and dementedly when Alf asked her to lie down on the couch.

“Take it easy, Di. Let your body relax. I’m going to horse you now, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, Jack did very much.”

Delia lay on it meekly, imagining that it was Jack doing the same thing and that his cock was crowding that couch. If Alf’s hand could help a guest orgasm so easily and quickly, imagine how often she must have used it on her host as well.

As if she could tell what was on her mind, Alf opened her mouth to ask as she prepared to apply the body oil, “So, how do you feel about Jack?” She spoke as if she were talking about a mutual boyfriend rather than her master. “Does he have a good body?”

“I ……” Delia bit her finger and almost blurted out “I haven’t seen it!” But at the last moment she remembered that Deanna had seen it, if not all of it, at least some of it …… But she must have seen Jack’s cock!

“Yeah,” she murmured in reply, then yelped simultaneously as those strong hands slid down her thighs. “He’s so beautiful,” she added imaginatively, convinced that it must be true. If she’d ever seen her prince in her visions, she’d certainly seen Jack naked. “I’ve never seen such perfect, flawless skin.”

“Thanks.” There was often pride in Elf’s voice. “I’m the one in charge of taking care of his skin. I spend so much time taking care of it. With oils like this one ……” She poured some of that stuff on Delia’s right buttock and then applied it to her left buttock as well. “And helping him horse around, deep cleansing, exfoliating, and so on. He loved feeling smooth and even.”

“Oh …… mmmm.” Delia let out another whisper as she imagined what it would feel like to have that smoothness and flatness touch her. Imagined that Elf’s deft hands were her owner’s and were massaging her, kneading her, finding all the little aches and arousals. And probing into all the recesses; in some places it was as gentle as a dragonfly, in others it was forceful, even a little relentless. After all, it had been Jack who had cradled her hips in his palms, tugging, playing with them, and it had been Jack who had relentlessly dived his fingers deep inside her; testing her thick, wet mug and pressing gently, but not stopping her arousal.

“Not yet.” Alf said quietly, if this horseplay wasn’t about sex to begin with, it should be starting to be now, “Can’t be too soon, you’ve still got to save some for Jack.”

“Oh, okay.” It was really hard to go for consent. She’d already had one orgasm, but her thirst was still strong. Between her strands, she needed a few fingers. Or a tongue or a cock. Whether it was a man or a woman …… the difference was in the eye of the beholder. She rocked her body slowly, a movement that felt comfortable and proved her earlier consent to be false.

Sex was something new to her. Real sex, of course. It was the hot and pent-up lust that this stupid climate had brought to her. She realized that her experience so far had been limited …… but her potential, she suspected, was limitless. She felt hungry, greedy, and insatiable.

When would this end? She wondered. Could she be as sexy as Deanna? Her body shivered again as she thought about winning over her sister. Winning the fight and getting Jack as a prize for her alone. She wasn’t sure she really wanted it, but just the thought that she could was shocking enough …… It was as if a jolt of electricity hit her nipples and pussy lips. She chanted and turned around, turning her breasts, her stomach, and her bare pussy to Alf.

“Touch me again,” she said commandingly, aroused by the hint of arrogance in her own voice. It was something she’d never heard before, a sexual desire that came from her voice. “There will be plenty more left for him.”

“Of course.” Elf replied, while returning to her task, practically the embodiment of a meek Japanese geisha.

“You can talk to me, too,” Delia said following her performance, smug in her sense of power. “Talk about things about him, about his body. His hobbies, and the things you’ve done to help him.”

“I do everything for him.” Alf’s voice lowered and became tender as well. Had she not only served him, but fallen in love with him as well? It seemed quite possible …… “I served him from the time he got up early in the morning until he sent me off to stop at night.”

As she spoke, she began to unbuckle first her belt and then the buttons of her dress. In seconds she stepped out of the plain dress, and in complete contrast to the way she had treated Delia’s clothes, she absentmindedly kicked her own away.

Delia had expected the beautiful girl to be wearing no underwear, but instead she wore a small, loose pink bra and a matching pair of French panties. Her body was thin, but seemed strong, and although her breasts were small, her nipples were large and dark; they showed clearly through her pink silk bra. Her pussy was almost visible as well; black, silky pubic hairs, all poking out mischievously from the side of her panties. Even more hairs showed as she reached over the marble table for the aromatic massage oil.

“How do you even serve him?” Delia asked without relaxing, her voice quivering a little as Alf began to rub oil on her body. Elf started at the two hollows of Delia’s groin and applied the oil evenly in small circles, a very precise and compelling motion. She didn’t even get close to Delia’s pussy or labia, but the sensations were already too much to restrain. Delia sobbed as she wiggled her hips.

“I get up at 5:30 and bring him a cup of his favorite hot herbal tea. While he’s drinking it, I help him get his workout clothes ready. He’s either running or lifting weights.” The movement of her fingers became more intense and caused Delia’s pussy door to open abruptly, with her cunt core standing in the center. “But before he gets dressed, I ease his erection with my hands or lips so that he won’t be distracted or uncomfortable while he’s exercising.”

She said it extremely quietly, but its effect on Delia was palpable. Her clitoris quivered with pleasure and seemed to suck the waves it created into her body. She screamed out, gripping the leather of the sofa and kicking her ankles; she had an orgasm in her fingers, toes, and genitals. The orgasm was not only complete, but made even better by its cause……. Imagine Jack’s cock in Alf’s mouth; his flesh and blood between her soft, rosy lips.

In this moment Delia had forgotten herself as she roughly grabbed Alf’s thin hand and squeezed it between her legs. She rubbed her already flooded pussy against it, just above the V between her thumb and other fingers, trying to ride out this brief post-orgasmic spasm. Her bodily fluids flowed everywhere, becoming thicker and more slippery as it mixed with the massage oil.

It was an air-conditioned room, but as Delia lay still and tried to recover, she felt her limbs dissolve. She listened intently as Alf lewdly described her master’s most intimate habits. She occasionally moved her body slightly to facilitate the massage, but otherwise she was just a floating, oiled speck, blissful and hidden. This is such an exciting prize, she thought with slight irony, and fantasized about how Jack would react if he came in at that moment and had sniffed her …….

“I want to take a shower, is that okay, before I see Jack ……”

Alf looked up from her work and smiled enigmatically, “Sure, let me help you get ready.” After a few more blows to Delia’s stiff left ankle, she settled her leg on the couch. “You might want to rest here for a few minutes while I run your bath.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you.” Delia replied gratefully, then closed her eyes. She needed a little time to herself. Concentrate on things.

I must be a bisexual for what I just did …….

Her pussy quivered at the word. She wanted to stroke herself again, at which point she asked herself a few pertinent questions.

What would Deanna do, I wonder? Would she do the same as me? She’s always been braver when it comes to things concerning sex. Maybe she’d already done it with a woman? It wouldn’t be surprising if she had. She always liked to try new things. But she’s never been able to get over her encounter with Veda Mistral. But she’d kept quiet about her encounter with Vida Mistral. Was it something that even Deanna was ashamed to admit? This desire for female sexuality …….

And what about me? Delia mused, realizing to herself that she had been avoiding the crux of the matter. She stole a glance at Elf, admiring her calm and collected nature.

The Japanese woman’s movements were elegant and deft. She spritzed perfume into the swirling, pond-sized bathtub and discharged piles of plush bath towels. Elegantly and carefully, she brought out porcelain bowls filled with fruit-shaped soaps and carved containers of lotion and prickly heat powder. Alf was soft, smooth and slim, and her glistening skin was even better. However, underneath her silk-thin bra and pants, it seemed to exude even more perfection.

But is this Elf really what I want? Delia thought, still a little confused. Or is she just a substitute …… a stand-in for Jack?

Delia sat up on the couch. She still felt waves of need, though she had already had several orgasms. Suddenly, however, it made her smile. There was still plenty left over. …… Her pussy lips were still swollen and sensitive. She still felt horny, wanting to be touched again, or sucked uttered, or tormented by a man’s body that would allow his cock to enter her cunt.

She slipped her hand underneath and stroked herself, knowing that while Elf would give her great satisfaction, right now she wanted something more unseemly, of a rougher sort. And, though she had been reluctant to say that word, there really was only one word to describe such a longing.

She wanted to be fucked. She wanted Jack’s cock to enter her, and for once, she was going to communicate fully. She was going to open her eyes wide, without blurring them. She wanted to know how he felt inside her, and to see his reaction.

No fantasies, no dreams, just Jack Diggle making love to her to the hilt. She was ready for Jack and leapt gently on the sofa, smiling at Alf. The slender Japanese girl had turned her head toward her and seemed unusually self-conscious.

“How’s my bath coming along?” Delia was delighted by the confidence in her voice.

Alf made a graceful, bowing gesture toward the pool before coming forward with a thin ribbon. She was going to tie up her hair before taking her into the water.

They’re beautiful, the man watching the monitor thought.

He already had this irreplaceable Elf …… and now this new one. This Italic-inspired Delia was so cute when she was confused, she had a hot and unusual body, and an extremely aroused response. What would she say if she knew he was peeking? How would she react if she knew that there was a miniature, but full-room-viewing camera in the ingenious beams of the roof? He imagined her anger, that feminine anger she might fake. Her anger must be feigned, because he had sensed that letting someone watch would not only turn him on, it would arouse her.

Both girls were superb, he thought, very content with such a wonderful pair. Elf, slim and with the flavor of a Japanese geisha, was so melancholy, elegant, and meticulous; Di, too, was slim and melancholy, but always more worldly and lustful. She was wild and bubbly, and only pretended to be civilized, but could not conceal her secret bestiality. He rejoiced in his good fortune …… and his judgment …… that he had made the right choice. As she cried out from her pleasure, he too opened his robe and played with his cock with his fingers.

As his hand moved in a familiar rhythm, he watched as Elf’s strong, slender hand was placed on Di’s open groin. This made him even more aroused because it was the new girl herself who put it there.

This guest of his was the one taking the initiative, that much was obvious. She wriggled herself, between Elf’s thumb and other fingers, taking the initiative to create her own pleasure instead of lying comfortably and waiting for it all to happen. The way she squirmed made his balls tighten and ache slightly straight away.

She was what he needed right now. His perfect sex partner. As he watched her wriggle the two-piece gin, he began to search for his own erogenous zones as well. Underneath his mushroom-shaped glans, there was a particularly sensitive spot …… Right! He found it …… just by touch alone …… and began to moan loudly, his eyes locked on the screen over Di, who was reaching orgasm.

He felt exhilarated because she was so new and not tired. She was like a fairy, and well suited to the game. Old and tired plots are made fresh and get reborn in her. She’s smart, but also naive. And so wonderful and endearing, too, that straight away he wanted to lick her puffy breasts and put his fingers in her cunt right away. He wanted to caress her, to touch her, to play in her pussy and tease her shadowy anus. He wanted to molest that tight little hole, even though he knew she would be upset at first. She might hate it or she might struggle, but afterward she would be more excited than usual. She squeezed his glans and wished very much for a hidden radio and CCTV. That way he would be able to instruct Alf and Dee would be subjected to the caresses he instructed her to receive.

Oddly enough, Di turned as if she could hear him. Her firm breasts popped out from under her at the moment when Alf was beginning to massage her shoulders. Jack knew that powerful massage well, so he wasn’t surprised when Di reacted. The prone woman bent more toward the couch and gave a weak whimper …… audible through the high-tech speakers …… She opened her thighs even more and squirmed.

Jack began to moan as well, his cock large and throbbing. With his free hand, he pressed the button that brought the camera closer, and that camera seemed to move closer to the shadowy, deep cleft in the center of Delia’s rounded ass. His balls were throbbing dangerously, and knowing that he was close to cumming, he began to visualize that hot, taut, peach-like ass that had been dissected.

She’d protest, sure. She’d complain and try to wriggle out from under him. He imagined her moving violently, struggling, trying to protect that inviolate and vulnerable entrance from his aggressive organ.

But he has his ways. Maybe in a forced way, maybe in a gentler way. He might tease her pussy until her anus quivered open. As it quivered on the screen, he was already picturing in his mind the sight of Dee tied up.

He fantasized that they were on a feather bed and she was face down, her slender wrists cuffed to the head of the bed. Her hips were raised high in the air with a bolster underneath, well prepared for him. To enhance the effect of this erotic dream, he decided that she should not be completely naked. Instead, she was almost overly proper in her Victorian robe, and the angelic, loose-fitting robe only made her look ten times more lascivious. Her hands and shoulders were encased in the soft, innocent garment, but the pale yellow gown was neatly folded and secured around her thin waist.

Her dress above the waist was perfect and stately, but her pale and quivering buttocks resembled two sculpted balls. Two balls of pure female flesh, and he was about to use them to fulfill his perverted desires. She could struggle if she wanted to, but if he grabbed her thighs and put himself between her ass cheeks, and just leaned forward, he could easily play with her hips.

Jack was so engrossed in his lewd wet dream that he completely ignored the surveillance screen and continued to visualize other visions in his mind. As he rubbed his hands back and forth, he imagined Dee in several nasty, rapey positions.

He saw Alf grab Dee’s hand and allow him to shove the items into her. In her cunt and anus, he stuffed vibrators, and in her happily open mouth, his cock. He almost heard her cackle with pleasure as this demonic weapon of his was destroying her pussy and rectum.

He saw her strapped to the frame with a belt and bent forward while allowing Fargo to perform anal sex while Mistress whipped her …… coldly and precisely …… on her buttocks.

He saw himself, with her consent, gently gripping her. Pushed his cock gently and discreetly into her oiled ass. They were lying on a shaggy blanket, rocking against each other, and close together. That rug was located by the window and looked out onto a garden. She screamed with pleasure as he entered her anus and reached down to tickle her clit. As she climaxed, he heard her calling his name gratefully, and the rippling, wonderful sound of her pussy.

“Dee.” He moaned softly before climaxing in a warm, raging surge and splattering cum all over his wide-open thighs.

Delia is a connoisseur when it comes to bathing. She likes to take her time and soak, and she can even roll around in the water for hours on weekends when she has more time.

But she had never had such an extravagant and luxurious bath. Alf had single-handedly arranged this Japanese-style bath, and she had only silently accepted the whole bunch of rituals designed to make her comfortable. She was washed …… all over …… her body she just sat on a small stool at the edge of the bath. She was accompanied even to the last number one, and her performance there was all supervised in a way that made her wretched and aroused. Finally, she was able to slowly, blissfully, immerse herself in the water that was just the right temperature. The water wasn’t as hot as a real Japanese bath, which might have made her sweat and panic. The water’s just slightly warm and perfumed with rose and jasmine.

She was dozing when a hand gently touched her shoulder. “Are you done washing, Dee?” Alf asked gently as she crouched by the pool, her loose bra dangling over her body so that her breasts were fully visible.

Her beauty woke Delia right up. She gave birth in the water, revealing her fuller, and rounder, puffy breasts in return. Alf smiled, her black eyes twinkling, but her movements and demeanor would not be ambiguous at all. She helped Delia out of the bath and dried her off. With graceful and slick movements, she rubbed scented lotion on Delia’s body and an expensive French moisturizer on her face. In addition, she gave her some makeup and brushed her hair into a lush shoulder-length bob.

Finally, she helped Delia put on a strand of pearls. The row of flawless pink beads was so substantial that it simply made one’s jaw drop. It was obviously authentic, and as Delia stood in front of the dressing mirror, she touched it with awe and admiration. A strand of jewelry like this was likely worth a fortune. That fact made her a little nervous about wearing it. It was perhaps the most valuable thing that had ever touched her skin. Well, except for Jack, of course.

“It’s about time, Di.” Alf said from behind her, smiling at their reflection in the mirror.

“But what about clothes?”

“He wants you naked.” The Japanese woman said simply and took Delia’s hand, urging her to follow.

“But I can’t ……” Delia protested. The words were negative, but she was already moving forward …….

“You can.” Elf smiled softly, opened the door, and pushed Delia gently outward. “You’re beautiful, Di. Your body is perfect. It’s so beautiful, how can you hide it away? Come on.”

Walking naked through the back porch of this house of Jack’s was a wonderful sensual experience. The decor was all rich and opulent; and she was naked. She was surrounded by such formality and class; and she was like a naked offering, ready to be played with and enjoyed. She was in a palace, her prince’s palace; and she was his, naked property.

The art on this floor was all about sex. She remembered the exhibition Deanna had described and suspected that all the best and most erotic works were here. Alf didn’t rush or hurry her, so she had plenty of time to study the drawings or photographs as she passed. Plenty of time, too, for her eyes to widen and her mouth to open; and for her bottom to get hot and wet again.

The most daring and unapologetic of these works are those depicting Jack himself. Whether in paintings or photographs, he is as naked as she is, and is engaged in a variety of mysterious sexual encounters. There are ones of him by himself, with a woman, with multiple women. There are even a few of him with men.

Delia wondered how her sister felt about such a private and personal exhibition. She was energetic and talented, and wasn’t afraid to let it be known that she took sex seriously, and it was possible that she had already created work that was at least comparable to these, or even better. She could be using a paintbrush, pencil, or camera. Or maybe she’s using her living, breathing body, too.

They were standing in front of the door now: a smoothly painted panel, nothing distinctive, but something that made her feel doubly threatened. Just as Delia hesitated, Alf said soothingly, “Don’t be afraid,” and probed forward, twisting the knob.

Delia’s heart began to throb …… as the door swung open in front of her.

chapter vii – the audience chamber

The room Delia entered reminded her of Jack’s office. He seemed to have a particular preference for this type of spacious house. It seemed more like an audience room for an Eastern monarch than a bedroom in a London mansion.

The décor is also rather unorthodox. Translucent, Japanese-style curtains hang on every wall. Instead of the traditional yellowish-brown ones, the curtains here are not only spirited, but also lively. There are orange, sandy red, peach, and tawny ones. They also have drawings on them, which look like swirling nebulae through the cleverly designed lighting at the back.

It was a strange place. It’s somber and a bit womb-like because of its spaciousness. The atmosphere is also erotic and mysterious. And the red lamps, like menstruation, are red and richly veined with peach.

It felt like being inside a woman. Perhaps that was what Jack was trying to do.

A large pile of low, backless sofas and huge, fluffy, beanbag-like cushions were scattered across the purple plush carpet. There were other pieces of furniture around there, but the angular and outwardly spreading light made it difficult to recognize them clearly. The only thing in the room that could be seen with any certainty was this largest sofa, which was placed on a stepped platform.

The top of this sofa was covered with soft and full cushions, and it was the only sofa that had a backrest, a shell-shaped high backrest with crimson velvet attached. Jack leaned back against it. His lean body, dressed in a thin blue robe, seemed like a cold, chilly poem in the pages of a running, red poem. The posture was so old-fashioned and anachronistic that it made him look like the hero of a cheap pornographic novel. If Delia hadn’t desired him so much, she might have laughed out loud.

Yet even though he was quiet and motionless, he still had a mesmerizing magic about him. He looked more like her prince than usual. And as she moved closer, she felt a sudden and strong sexual charge.

The pig had fallen asleep in a surprisingly dignified manner.

Delia couldn’t believe she was still squirming forward in silence. Alf said Jack was supposed to be busy, and all she needed to do was come at him like a storm and open that hellmouth. If it had been Deanna there would have been that possibility, but she was Delia, a diplomat, vivacious and spontaneous sister.

But anyway, he always looked so handsome.

Delia couldn’t believe this was only the second time she’d seen this man. She stood not far from him, feeling as if she had been in love with him for quite some time. Her dreams, fantasies, and Deanna’s exaggerated descriptions were making her feel as if she had come to know him completely, including his heart, his body, and his soul.

But she does and knows full well that all this feeling could be false. To her, sex was important and mysterious. He was one of the best she had ever known. But the way he was now, completely relaxed like a cat, was far more moving and sensually stimulating than any of his collections.

His whole body was now stretched out, reclining on his soft red throne, with his bare feet peeking out from the side of his robe. She could clearly see now that it was cut like a Japanese kimono, with square cut sleeves. She doubted if there had ever been any Japanese warlord who dressed as thinly as he did. The silk was so obscenely thin that she didn’t need her imagination. Not only could she see his firm limbs and body, but she also caught a glimpse of his penis, balls, and pubic hair.

What a pretender, she thought to herself! She was angry but horny. Wearing blue in a red room was like a play, and could only have been planned in advance. The damn thing, it was almost transparent and made him look a little girly, but she didn’t think that would bother Jack …….

Then he rolled over, and that’s when she noticed his hair and began to gasp. His hair was loose and untied tonight. When he moved his body out of discomfort, his hair was also wavy, like a wave going across the mat. His hair also seemed longer at this time. As he tossed and turned, some of it also fell over his face, throat, and shoulders. The sight was so tantalizing that Delia couldn’t help but feel a wave of dizziness as she gazed at him. She suddenly became aware of Alf standing beside her.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he!” The Japanese girl said in a thin voice. Delia had to admit it despite the turmoil in her mind.

“Yeah.” She replied in the same thin voice.

A tenth of a second later, she suddenly realized that Jack was pretending to be asleep. How could he be a perfect controller and not be awake, not be listening, not be playing with her?

“Oh, thanks, Ms. Ferraro,” he cooed again in that familiar foamy chocolate voice and stretched, raw. As he did so, the opening of his robe widened. His eyes were gleaming and alive with mischief.

“Perhaps I should add that you look even prettier yourself.” He continued and rubbed his hands together lazily before reaching out to touch her before she could protest, react, or even blush. His fingertips skimmed over her chin, that pearl necklace necklace, and then traveled up and down her left breast. He flicked the firm nipple with his fingernail and kissed it. As he gently licked, sucked, and then bit her, he straightened up again, by now her skin was red and her pussy was swollen and wet.

As he lay back, his thin, fluttering robe vaguely revealing his groin, Delia saw his pubic hair while his cock was covered by the crepe of his robe. The sight of his pussy made her shudder. It seemed so fascinating and vibrant. But compared to his smooth chest and limbs, it looked a little strange. She remembered that Alf had mentioned shaving him …… and she imagined a glistening razor that had traveled to his face, legs, arms, and chest.

Delia was speechless as her mind was filled with bizarre thoughts and fantasies. And almost naked, she was trembling with desire. She had lost the ability to speak. “Good night.” It was with great difficulty that she spoke.

“Alf said you were busy.”

“Yeah, well, in a way, I’m busy.” He reached up and ruffled the hair that had fallen over his cheek. And there was a mischievous lift at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes looked to the side, which made Delia follow his gaze.

There was a table there with legs carved in the shape of dragons, and a small, wide-screen television on the table. Its picture was static and empty and familiar. It was the luxurious but now empty bathroom, and the white leather sofa was in the center of the screen.

“You asshole! Pervert!” She screamed, suddenly realizing that she was more like Deanna than usual at this point. “So you’ve been spying on us, you bastard!”

“Yeah, of course I’ve been watching,” he said, and turned around on the couch, crossed his legs, and smiled at them before glancing at his coal-black pussy again. “Women are most natural when they don’t know they’re being peeked at.”

She was supposed to be furious. He was such a macho pig! She wanted to either pound him in his really handsome face …… or make him fuck her right away. The two urges were equally strong, and her anger was no match for her embarrassment. She had just reacted to Alf like a sex maniac, hadn’t she? She had screamed, climaxed, and whimpered.

“What’s wrong, Di?” He asked gently and grabbed her in one hand, pulling her to him. “It feels good to be with Alf, doesn’t it? I bet you can’t say you don’t like it.” He took her in his arms now and lightly caressed her breasts before sliding his fingers down to her stomach.

“There you go, Sweet Dee,” he coaxed her, and turned her face toward him. He held her neck with one hand while one had slipped to her pussy. “You don’t want Elf to be upset, do you?” His fingers danced rudely over her pussy. “If you keep getting upset like this, she’s going to think you don’t like her.” His wide blue eyes were absolutely steady and square. It was not at all obvious that he was stroking her from below. Slow, relentless, and even harder to resist.

Delia’s hips began to shake. She really hated herself for this, but she couldn’t stop herself. He was treating her like a toy; a doll that shook when touched. But it was this diminished status, and his encouraging words, that made her body burn and ache between his fingers.

She was embarrassed to feel her bodily fluids as her naked hips rocked on the chair cushion. It flowed wetly out of her and between his fingers while soaking the expensive weave. She could feel her kink rising steadily but rapidly and rushing through her. It raced through her nerves, limbs, and organs, then doubled back to her pussy door …… and to the brown hand that was occupying her.

“Dee, oh Dee,” he murmured. “I never thought I’d have a girl who reacts so violently.”

“But you don’t own me yet!” She gasped, her hips jumping upward as he mockingly withdrew his hand for the moment.

“Oh, but I will,” he said softly at her side, while his hand still kept stroking.

He applied exquisite pressure, causing her legs to spread to meet his entry. “After Elf has you and you have her.”

“What do you mean? I …… Oh God! Don’t! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

It happened again. That intense shaking. That twisting of the womb. The pleasure was so comfortable, even to the point of some pain. So much so that dignity had to be abandoned ……

This isn’t me, she thought vaguely. This isn’t me at all! As that feeling faded and disappeared, she lay in Jack’s arms like a weak, empty shell.

I’m not an orgasm machine. I don’t orgasm easily. How could he do this to me? And how could they? She thought in confusion and opened her heavy eyelids to look at Alf, who was kneeling on the carpet next to the couch, intently watching it all happen.

Then she remembered Peter.

I also orgasm easily when I’m with him, don’t I? No problems at all, no special effort, much less any obstacles. I didn’t even care at all. What’s wrong with me? She looked up at Jack, wondering if he had some sort of magical powers. Could he change the weather? Or tamper with the ozone layer, causing the entire city to be shrouded in an erotic haze. Was he a demon …… who would turn everyone he met into a sexual fanatic?

It really seemed that way. Because while Delia’s body was still shaking, Alf stood up and began to remove her clothes. With a slight nod from Jack, she reached behind her and unhooked her tiny, pink bra. Once it was unhooked, she grabbed the small piece of fabric and leaned into herself, a picture of virginal shyness. She threw Jack a very seductive look, like a trained Japanese geisha, and the answer she got was a condescending snap of her fingers. Then ……

Meekly, but not servilely, Elf let the pink bra fall to the carpet. Her breasts were small, but beautifully molded and had the darkest nipples Delia had ever seen. Dark teal brown in color, the wide, swollen nipples looked lovely with her slightly olive skin. They were also straight and straight, and Elf ran her fingers over them as if to emphasize their exotic beauty.

“Please take the rest off too, Elf.” Jack said hoarsely. He licked his lips, clearly already under the influence, even though the woman was his regular companion and he must have been familiar with her body already.

“Yes.” Alf replied softly and slid her dainty hands down to her waistline, hooking the elastic band of her panties. Slowly, teasingly, she pulled it down and stepped it open, this time not seeing a hint of shyness in her at all.

Delia envied her. Not just envied her grace and composure, but envied her beautiful, taut rouge body. Elf’s slim figure was almost flawless: her waist was thin, her hips were slightly curved, her navel was deep, and her belly was remarkably flat. Delia unconsciously adjusted her reclining position to try and hide her larger curves. She wasn’t fat, but she had a pronounced belly, and most girls were dimpled in that area.

“It’s okay, beautiful Di,” Jack whispered softly at her side. He slid his fingers from her pussy door to her belly, stroking it, “I kinda like it.” He massaged her belly in slow, slightly circular motions, and she couldn’t help but moan again. She could feel such a massage vibrating her pussy lips and provoking her still sensitive clit. When his thumb slid into her belly button, she pushed herself forward even more to meet it.

Jack had long, slender hands, and when he spread them wide, his middle finger could reach her pussy. He stroked the lips of her sensual pussy, then squeezed the part it spanned with his palm. Delia grunted again, and for a moment it seemed to her that her bladder was full and a little sad.

Delia’s thoughts began to cloud. Jack was still stroking her tenderly while Alf …… his Japanese handmaiden …… knelt respectfully again. Her fingers slid up Delia’s warm thigh. Searching for her already open and ready …….

“She’s all yours, Alf.” Jack said softly.

Delia was confused and also felt his hand start to retract and her body was being adjusted on the cushions.

When he was satisfied, he returned to the farther end of the couch and began stuffing more seat cushions into his back …… for comfortable viewing, and she finally understood.

She turned her gaze to him, pleading silently. She didn’t know exactly how he wanted her to be, yet she was still very aroused. It would be Alf’s hands and mouth that would do that work later, but it was Jack who was controlling them. He was the one in control of the two dolls they were, lying easily at their sides, effortlessly watching their most carnal performances. And he seemed happy just to watch.

“Relax, Sweet Dee.” He smiled very kindly, “I assure you, she’s the best.”

Delia was still unsure and began to tremble violently and bite her lip. When Jack realized this, as if to reassure her, he leaned forward and kissed her cheeks, fondled her breasts, and then returned to his position as a spectator. He popped open his robe and released his stiff cock …… and it popped out and struck him loudly on his belly.

Delia couldn’t help but huff when she was caught between Alf and Jack with nothing to do, while her eyes were fixed on his swaying red column. She had felt it inside her, but this was the first time she had seen it with her own eyes.

His penis was as perfect as the rest of him. Anything about Jack Diggle was superior. Anything about Jack Diggle was superior, unique, the best. And his penis was no exception.

Delia hadn’t seen a lot of men naked, but Jack compared everyone else she’d seen. His cock was not only long, but it was also wide. There were veins bulging clearly on it. She watched with awe as it twitched between his fingers. It was like an arrow with a crown at the tip, de-circumcised, thick, heavy, and mind-blowing.

He was rubbing it shamelessly now, while his hips were raised high and away from the couch. That caress was long and care-free. When he threw his head back and purred in his throat like a cat, his eyes with their long lashes closed in ecstasy.

Alf stopped to look at her master as well. This caught Delia’s attention while she smiled implausibly and pressed her tongue across Delia’s lips as if she were savoring Jack’s delicious meat.

All propriety was forgotten at this moment. The man before them was masturbating like an animal.

And only purely for the liberation of his ego. Delia and Alf continued to watch as he retracted one foot to the side and straightened the other, then let his pelvis rock back and forth in the air. It was a naked and lascivious movement, and his red sex flailed wildly in front of their faces.

As his orgasm drew nearer, they saw the small pouting mouth on his cock. The little mouth seemed to be quivering right at them, then winking, then swelling again and finally shooting its offering.

“Terrific! Fantastic!” He yelled as his cum flew free and high. Some of it landed on the couch, some on Jack’s own body. A few drops also spilled onto Delia’s pale, curvy belly, only inches away from Elf’s golden fingers.

Jack slumped back into the chair cushion with a thud, gasping for breath, but all eyes were focused on what had just shot brilliantly out of him, the silky white liquid. It lay like a string of white pearls on Delia’s skin. She subconsciously touched the jewels that were at her throat.

After a moment, Alf embraced it, bent over, and began to lick it. Her pink tongue licked Jack’s cum clean, then swallowed it as if it were ice cream or pudding.

Delia was not only surprised, she was also jealous. She had the urge to knock Elf out of the way and bend over to lick it herself. Overwhelmed, she stared forward, then frantically started to move when she heard a soft chuckle. It was a low, satisfied male laugh.

“It’s okay …… you’ll get another chance.”

She was startled when Jack actually began rubbing his cock again, slowly pulling on the fully satisfied organ.

“There’s nothing left!” She resisted. He was good, he was surprisingly good at sex, but even so, he was still just flesh and blood!

Jack laughed again, having read her mind perfectly. “Never mind, Sweet Dee,” he said, humor in his soft voice, “it’s not like the wells are dry yet anyway. There’s plenty left at their source.”

“You’re such a pompous ass!”

She was so angry that she rushed towards the couch ready to hit him, but Alf was far faster than she was.

Delia screamed in protest and struggled, but she didn’t know how it happened, and she found herself sprawled across the couch. And unable to move. Alf was on all fours pulling tightly on top of her, clutching her hand …… and Jack, that smug devil, was still grinning.

“Most people assume that Fargo is my main defender,” he said, and leaned side by side with her so that he could look Delia in the eye, “but they are wrong about that.” He tenderly ran his fingers through the dark, soft hair of this servant of his, “Let her up, my dear,” he whispered.

The Japanese woman obeyed immediately. She looked at Delia fondly, almost as if she had only just caressed her instead of laying her out with a life-saving move from a martial art. “Forgive me.” She said and helped Delia sit up, “It’s just a reflex action. We’ve had some strange people here in the past, so I didn’t dare risk Jack’s safety.”

“Never mind.” Delia stroked her hair as if to straighten it and guessed what Elf meant by strange. Isn’t everyone here weird? …… Then she began to chastise the still laughing Jack, “But you, you make me hate angry!”

The trouble was …… he was smiling at her, and his blue eyes were twinkling …… He made her want him, too.

You really are a devil, Jack! she thought, not doubting for a moment that he could realize what he had just told her. He could probably have another wild erection in a few minutes, and have her begging to have it put inside her.

She’d never met a man like him, in fact she didn’t want to meet another. It was intimidating that he was capable of what he did, and she doubted her sister was coping.

Deanna should be able to be quite at home, she concluded. Deanna was bold and insightful. She liked to enjoy shenanigans and conflict.

“What are you thinking, Dee?” Jack asked lazily, laying back again and stretching while his fingers still roamed around his cock. “One minute you’re berating me, the next you’re preoccupied! What’s going on, my sweetie? Do you hear me?”

Of course I heard you, you pig! She was angry, but tried to restrain herself.

“I was thinking of my ……” She stopped abruptly. She almost blurted out the word “sister.”

“Thinking about my boyfriend …… after all this,” she looked around the erotic room, pointing at Alf, and at Jack himself, “he’s become so tiresome. I think it has to be over between me and him ……”

“That’s right, go for it.” Jack said matter of factly. He was rubbing his cock slowly, but it looked like he was thinking about Delia’s predicament. “You’re too smart to be slowed down by an idiot, Di. You need a companion who can add fuel to your fire. Someone who can heat up your spark, not douse it.” He threw a quick look at Elf, “Someone like Elf. Now kiss her and make up.”

Delia didn’t know why she was so helplessly submissive, but pressed her lips to Alf’s anyway. The Japanese girl’s mouth was as soft as the petals of a flower, and the kiss was complete and perfect, not unlike her kisses with men.

For a few moments, they were both completely still. Then in a flash they were. And not blatantly, either, but in the mind. Up until now, Delia had been passive, as if she was going with the flow. Suddenly, she felt active again, and wanted to. She wanted to kiss Alf, and she wanted her to know that it was a consensual, and consensual, kiss. She wanted Jack to know that, too, even if she sensed that he already knew.

Realizing that there wasn’t really much difference between a man’s kiss and a woman’s, she slumped back into the cushion. The Japanese woman’s mouth and tongue were just as powerful as a man’s. She forced Delia’s lips apart with ease and probed the softness and wetness of her mouth.

Delia had always enjoyed kissing, sometimes even more than intercourse, but being kissed by a woman in front of a man was a new and exciting experience. As her tongue swirled around Alf’s hard and ever-prickling tongue, she felt Jack’s presence strongly. His preoccupied, shadowy figure surrounded them like air; like a second exploring mouth; a second body, pressed on top of Elf’s, while the thin woman lay on all fours again on top of Delia’s.

Their bodies were fully connected, and Alf was still stretching and vibrating. The slow, soft movements were like caresses in themselves, and there were those delicate, karate-trained fingers moving back and forth between Delia’s flanks and thighs. Breasts rubbed against breasts, nipples against nipples. Their bellybuttons seemed to be kissing just as lewdly as their mouths, and Elf’s silky soft pubic hair was entwined with Delia’s more rigid ones.

Were their bodily fluids mixed together as well? Delia thought vaguely. Inside their joined mouths, she imagined that her and Alf’s bodily fluids had mixed. As she thought about it, her saliva continued to gush out, startling her. She had never tasted herself, let alone another woman. She felt Alf getting more and more aroused at the thought of her body, as if she could taste their cocktail too. Alf moaned too, low and broken ……

In her own way …… and sent buzzing through their kisses.

Delia still felt Jack deeply …… in fact even more intensely than she had a moment ago …… she trailed her fingers over Alf’s backside. It was cool and inviting, long and firm, with her small, rounded buttocks at the end.

Alf had a lovely pair of buttocks, very tight and muscular, yet also as easy to grasp as fruit. They looked like a pair of peaches between Delia’s hands while she squeezed them as if testing their ripeness. Elf squirmed in her hands and moaned meaninglessly into their long kisses, while Delia found the caresses to have a special power …….

The harder she pushed, the more Elf reacted. Her pussy writhed hungrily toward Delia, and she writhed wildly with excitement when Delia pounded her ass.

Delia felt a great sense of triumph and the thrill of power and control. With control of her hips, she could make Elf writhe and dance on top of her. She reveled in it and tucked her thighs between Elf’s legs, squeezing her damp span.

Delia could feel everything, and every bit of it. That sacred female body: the soft, resilient recesses, the clit as hard as a walnut, and what wet them both, the oozing fluid. She gripped Elf’s hips tightly and rocked them, all the while feeling other hands caressing them both.

Jack was flat on his back with them now, his heat merging with their confusion. He was whimpering, too, inspiring them, his raspy voice mixing even more with their moans. And as Delia’s fingers wandered to the cleft of Elf’s anus, she realized that Jack’s hand was there, too, teasing her rhythmically.

Elf was starting to fidget violently between them now. “So warm, so sweet ……” she huffed, kissing wildly on Delia’s face, then squeezing her nose into her shoulder. She gave another very Japanese yelp, then began bouncing her pussy on Delia’s thighs and messing with her buttocks with her sharp nails.

With the tanned girl almost reaching orgasm, Delia turned her head to the side while meeting Jack’s turquoise blue eyes. They narrowed into a line, burning around the fire of desire. He was still stroking Alf, the rhythm sure and regular, but when his maid shuddered and climaxed, he pushed into the tangled body and kissed Delia full and hard. She felt his tongue push into her mouth, just as Elf had just done, and she shivered in response.

Soon, she thought confusedly, soon was his dick in. That lovely, hot rod, moving, thrusting and stretching. Taking possession of her private parts in the same way that his tongue had taken possession of her mouth.

Elf suddenly became weak and paralyzed in their midst. Her slender body did not move at all, as if she had fainted from lustful pleasure. This was hardly surprising for a well-trained woman. Delia held her tightly still, loving her smooth skin, and the strong scent of sex on her.

Delia would have loved to just curl up and lay there for hours, but apparently Jack had other ideas. He climbed gracefully off the couch, then picked up Alf in her entirety and gently laid her down on the carpet. He grabbed a cushion and patted it vigorously before tucking it underneath Elf’s cheeks and ruffling her long silky hair around her shoulders like it was curtains. He moved so gently that Delia felt a sharp pang of jealousy. She watched as he respectfully kissed her on the forehead, finishing before returning to the couch and teetering on his legs.

“It’s just you and me now, Sweet Dee.” His eyes fell back, chillingly unblinking.

“But won’t she wake up? If she’s your bodyguard, can’t she hear a tiny sound?”

“If she intends not to, she can’t hear it.” He grinned. “Elf has a lot of special powers, and this is just one of hers. It’s just the two of us now, Di. What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It was as if she had lost her mind and all she could think about was sex. A blink of an eye after the words came out of her mouth, she still couldn’t believe it; she almost never used dirty words. She was Delia Ferraro. She was Delia Ferraro, always super calm and careful with her words. Even though she had been through a lot, she couldn’t help but blush.

“Great.” He murmured, and as he spoke, his cock stood up as if hypnotized, hardening and straightening between his legs. “You’re so pretty, Di. So rosy and warm.” He ran his fingers over his cock, rubbing it slowly, causing its little eyes to open as if it were crying.

“You want it, huh?” He squeezed the crown on his sex, and a jewel-like liquid popped out.

“Yes.”

Why deny it? It would have been true. And there was no way it could fool him. “And what way do you want it,” his eyes closed briefly, as if his hand was making him very comfortable. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position while that early cum glistened. Delia would have given anything for a confidence that would give her the courage to lean forward and grab his cock with her tongue.

“Come on,” he enticed, and shook himself gently, making the small drop of liquid quiver unsteadily.

“I ……” it looks so tempting, I wonder what it tastes like?

“Do it, and then I’ll love you any way you want. Any way. Even if it’s ……,” he shrugged. “Well, even if I can’t orgasm on my own.”

What kind of devil’s game is this? Isn’t just licking him enough for him? It’s only a few grams of fluid. ……

She hesitated, and then when Jack’s hand came up, she leaned her head toward his cock. As her lips touched him, she also felt his hand on her side, stroking her untied hair and then gently touching her cheek.

His flavor was surprisingly light. It was a little salty, but not too salty. But even so, she licked it with gusto, and she greedily licked that winking little hole. When she’d licked that first drop clean, she curled her tongue around his sensitive glans and then boldly flicked the V-shaped groove underneath.

“You’re such an angel.” He gasped, his fingers sliding through her hair, controlling her, the touch still gentle and soft. “You’re a deft little angel, a real coquette ……”

Even though he was talking, she still felt her mouth getting wetter and stickier and saltier. She wondered wondering if he would climax, if he would lose control and become over excited and cum. The thought of it aroused her and her own bodily fluids began to run. She sucked in her words with both cheeks deep in her throat, determined to crush him.

“Oh, stop it, you little slut!”

He smiled as if to let her know he’d read her mind. He slid his hand down and pressed his thumb against her lips, forcing her to let go.

She wanted to bite his thumb, just as strongly as she’d longed to suck his cock a moment ago, but this time Delia restrained herself and only reached up to remove his hand from her face.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to make love to you, Di. Just do some simple positions, no tricks. We can use the face-to-face position too, if you like?” He grinned with his teeth exposed, a smile that was both sparkling and wicked. She would have sacrificed everything just for a smile like that, or for him.

But even so, she still felt he was playing with her. For a man like Jack, the “face-to-face” position was one he had probably never used before. She didn’t know whether to satisfy Jack or herself.

But in the end, nature can’t change ……

“That’s great,” she said, and looked up at him, “at least this time, when we …… are together, I can see your face.”

His brow creased as he pushed his hair back from his face. Delia felt a pang of weakness, then quickly searched for recent memories, especially her sister’s.

Deanna had straddled Jack’s top in the car, and she wasn’t one to be polite. She keeps saying she likes to “watch” …….

“I ……” Delia hesitated, then decided to take a gamble, “It was too dark in the car,” she said, “and you were behind me at the gallery Yikes,” his eyes narrowed. “And when in your office …… I was surprised to find out who you were. I’m always ‘confused’.”

He gave her a small, studied smile before leaning over to press his lips to hers above.

“That’s right,” he murmured, “you’re right about everything. That’s why we should make it up this time. I’ll open my eyes wide, but you have to do the same. Okay?”

She nodded, though she wasn’t sure herself if she could do it. But meeting his eyes was supposed to be hard.

They are like, cold sapphire stars in a red night, shining because of the sex. They even dazzled her when he climaxed. “In that case, sweet Dee ……,” he said, already beginning to undress. “Let’s do it.”

Jack was a fit man, and his physical abilities were not fully utilized. Before Delia could feel it, she was turned over, lying on her back, limbs spread. He hadn’t gotten on top of her yet, but his thighs were already across her stomach, controlling his own. He reached behind her with one arm, but the other hung in mid-air, the tiger’s eyes sullen. He was looking for his target, she realized, and his cock was like a brass rod against her.

She felt strongly like his toy again. It was like she was waiting for a button to be pushed on her …… and this time, loving it. Jack seemed to consider this for a long, long time, and was gripping her tightly, trembling even more with need. How could he do it? She wondered. How could anyone be so meticulous and calm as a surgeon?

Would he touch her breasts first, or her belly? The skin in each place seemed tense and sensitive. Her legs, perhaps? Her nipples? Her navel? Would he touch her pussy first? Stab his fingers directly into her cunt?

And finally, her face.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked and ruffled her hair to the side.

She was scared. Scared of the game that was about to begin. Scared of his anger. And, yes, it was just him she was afraid of.

But none of those fears were really anything, and she could easily get rid of them. What really scared her was herself, and the changes Jack could give her, and had already given her. In the few days she’d known him, she’d already done a lot of things she hadn’t expected to do, and Jack would probably change her even more …….

“No!” She summoned her family’s courage, and Deanna’s fighting spirit, and bravely lied. She mimicked Jack’s own movements, reaching up to caress his face, then shuddered at the smell of him. It was a blend of cologne, sweat, and semen.

Suddenly, she didn’t think petting was enough. Her hand slipped behind its head, deep into his thick, straight hair. And pulled his head down for a kiss.

He pressed his mouth to hers forcefully but obediently. His lips were cold and full, and they opened slightly as her tongue squeezed in. She felt a wave of dizziness, as if his mouth was filled with ecstasy.

As they kissed, his body slanted a bit and moved over hers. His other free hand slid up to her breasts. He covered her naturally and easily, and his fingers settled on her nipples and began to flick them back and forth. He was gentle and strong, reminding her for a moment of Peter. Their cautious and careful hunger was the same …… but as she opened her eyes …… just as she had promised …… to stare into Jack’s dark brown eyes, she knew the two were not had no real resemblance.

Peter is a good man and genuinely cares about her. Jack, on the other hand, is an irresponsible sexual predator. He’s wonderful, but at times plays a different role or plays different tactics just to pursue what he wants from a woman. And the worst part is that even though she knows all about his selfish and self-serving nature, she’s powerless to resist.

Jack slowly and gently stroked her breasts, which produced a predictable series of reflex actions. Her pelvis began to jostle right in his lap while fresh bodily fluids flowed out of her. She wanted his thigh to squeeze between her legs, but he still didn’t move at all. Barely touching her pussy.

She wanted to scream wildly from frustration. Her pussy door ached for violent action. She wanted his cock inside her. She opened her body and let it spread wide. She wanted him to copulate with her immediately, without any mercy or hesitation.

But he’s playing her again, deliberately suppressing his powers, trying to crush her.

I’m not going to use begging, Delia thought tenaciously through clenched teeth. I want him, need him, desire him. But I will never whimper like a dog.

Her body, however, thought otherwise. While her lower body moved hungrily toward him, he pulled himself up and away.

“Stop toying with me, you asshole! Come on!” She shushed. She was angry, very angry …… The anger burned in her lower body and corroded her like acid …… She could almost hear the zippy sound.

“It would be my honor.” Whispered the man, and as he moved his body his eyes glowed blue.

He took her in his hands and then straddled her body, jerking back and forth between her legs. She could feel the head of his rod jabbing lightly while she brought both knees back to meet him; and adjusted the angle of her body so that he could slide in easily. His glans seemed to touch her wet, sticky pussy for only a moment, and then he drove in long and hard.

Delia jerked upward to match, trying to get him deeper, but Jack didn’t move. His glans entered her only slightly, pushing lightly against the warm tightness.

“Don’t move! Don’t be so impatient …… There’s still plenty of time left.”

She was angry; and redoubled her efforts. She grabbed and tore at his buttocks, just as he had grabbed Elf’s earlier. His legs and buttocks began to twitch while she considered stroking his anus to get there.

Just as she was thinking about it, he had begun to work his way downward and inward.

“Slowly, slowly, slowly,” he whispered. Centimeter by centimeter he swelled inside her, naturally opening her doors and firing up many of the terminal nerves that were used to being passed quickly.

Such sensations made her heart beat faster. Her door was being pried open by his cock and her cunt was being tickled in a very wonderful way that she had never felt before. On her face, Jack’s eyes were like navigational beacons; guiding her body, sailing to mysterious new lands.

As he advanced a little further inside, and his glans was encased in her muscles again, Delia felt a spasm rise around him …… and just as it did, she felt a wave of fear.

What if this is just a test? What if it was a measurement of some sort? She’d never thought of that, and it had never mattered before. But what if she and Deanna weren’t exactly the same down there?

She was getting hotter and sweating more from worry. What if she was tighter than Deanna? Or looser? Maybe their creases were different too …… She might be browner, wetter, or slicker. There was just so much that could be different.

Time passed so slowly. She was waiting for him to ask questions. Waiting for him to lash out or draw back. She was waiting for Jack to say, “I know ……”

But nothing.

Only he sighed heavily before placing his lips on top of hers. His tongue dived into her waiting mouth like his cock burrowed into her cunt.

The sensation of this entry was so complete that she almost stopped breathing. He was inside, deep inside, and still. It was as if he was trying to imprint himself on her, to mark her, to say she was his forever.

When he started to have movement, it was top scary. Jack’s jabs were long and smooth …… and each time he pulled back, he let himself tower over her, looking directly into Delia’s eyes while his glans throbbed violently inside her.

He didn’t speak, he didn’t scream, he didn’t even moan, but his whole body said, “This is me. The me you want. Look into my eyes.”

Delia had fainted, lost, and only a small part of her mind still survived. She had lost consciousness and could only pray that his eyes would not change before asking, “What about the Dee are you?”

But now it was a little difficult to recall who he was. All she knew was that he was a body. It was a thing that was inside her, alive. It was a male body. She felt scattered around him, felt crushed by his hardness, felt her delicate insides quivering and, like her consciousness, beginning to melt. She could hear her own orgasm, and see the rapidly collapsing pleasures like flying, silver ghosts. She could taste her own screams as it came fast and broke through the web of reality.

The last thing she remembered was the warm fiery red. Then the blue in the red. And Jack’s eyes as he entered her.

Chapter 8: The Dream of the Samurai

It was the first time Deanna had ever been truly jealous of her sister, and she really didn’t like the way it felt.

She kicked the covers off her naked and sweaty body. She didn’t want to sleep anymore and got out of bed and stood up. Whether or not getting up would make things better was questionable. But she was always reluctant to sit around and wait. She put on her robe and headed for the kitchen.

Deanna loved their little apartment because she had put so much effort into it. But how monotonous and boring it looked now, just because Delia lived here and the man Delia was with. She took a sip of her soda and turned out the light again, because darkness made it easier to contemplate.

Likewise, darkness is the perfect environment for fantasizing, even if it’s really not a good time. It’s best to refrain from fantasizing tonight, to resist fantasies, because they can be as painful as hell.

When she closed her eyes, the damage yet seemed to have been done. And the sight had surfaced …….

As Jack appeared in her mind, she also began to stroke her thighs through her robe, telling herself, You’re crazy! Jack and Delia were naked on a large bed, making love like animals and shouting with pleasure.

Deanna, you’re doing an awesome job, and people will just think you’re a masochist.

She couldn’t believe how violently she’d reacted. Delia would probably be more sensible in the same situation.

On her “vacation” nights, she would go to another guy to keep her company.

Before long, it occurred to her that she could come along and play one of these games. She could slip downstairs and disguise herself as Delia. If she played the part well, she might succeed. But Peter was harder to fool than Jack. He had known them for years. So he could detect a difference between them. That was not easy to distinguish, but certain it was there.

There was, however, a great failure in the scheme, but deep down in Diana’s heart there was great joy. Peter knew it was Delia who had gone out today, because she had told her herself. Damn it!

She wasn’t very keen on thinking of other things she could do. A drink, perhaps, and a night of TV? Or sketching or reading a good book?

Wait a minute!

Thinking of the word “book”, another image arose. This time it was a very different image. It was the dark and depraved club, “Seventeen” ……, where there was a beautiful female writer with long red braids and a particular taste in clothes.

Vida Mistral. Mistletoe.

The one that wrote the book.

Not caring about her fluttering gown and untied belt, Deanna ran for the parlor, bumping her toe on the way and cursing then just shrugged philosophically. It was one of those nights.

Next to the window stood a bookcase filled with books; it looked as if it would collapse at any moment. She turned on a reading lamp and searched the bookcase with purpose.

What she was looking for now was hidden on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Up until a few days ago, Delia had been worried that the book would be found. Vida’s book had never had to be a bestseller, but that didn’t make it any less striking. All Deanna had pulled from the shelves were some of the most salacious modern yellow books that were within reach and most obscene.

She quickly flipped through a few books, looking for something that had been bothering her lately. An association, a name. The name had been on her mind since the painting show, but predictably, her mind had long since gone haywire.

She flipped through the pages and smiled when she not-so-smallly reached them. These books were so raunchy, and certain passages were even nastier to ……

Hedonistic palaces, returning to hedonistic palaces, and falling in love with young men are all bestsellers, but what she’s looking for isn’t in fiction.

Under the pile of books, she found it. Mistletoe’s Seven Stories. It was a collection of erotic short stories that had been published in the pornographic magazine “Encounters”.

The cover of this book has gotten a lot of creases, as have its interior pages. This set spends many chapters in the bathroom.

As Deanna began to read, and to caress her body, she couldn’t help but get wet and twitchy. Driven by the sensational content, she only lightly touched her body with her fingers. Other times, however, she had to turn on the shower head or faucet to muffle the sound of the vibrator, which was incredibly stupid, but nothing to be ashamed of. She knew it, and Delia knew it.

Now there was no rosette here, and she didn’t need it, and she didn’t even need a vibrator, and she was already all fired up due to jealousy. Because her sister had gotten what she had longed for.

But jealousy is not self-serving. The game was still a game, after all, and it just so happened that this time it was Delia’s turn. It was her share of the sky. Deanna knew she had to make some entertainment for herself, some fun. And the book that had been turned over could help her. She slowly sat down on the couch, flicking the hem of her robe on either side and spreading her thighs in a relaxed manner while she opened the book, closed her eyes, and placed her hands on the pages.

When she looked down again, she no longer had to think. She’d found what she’d been looking for, and she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t read the book sooner.

Very oddly, the story is called The Face of Lord Kazidor.

Deanna wanted to know exactly why the books had failed to catch on. At the time of Seventeen, it was obvious that Jack and Misty had been lovers, and probably still were. But only now does Deanna realize how close they were. Vida had written her lover’s story in a book – about Kazito, her most cherished Japanese lover.

With excitement and a slight shiver running through her body, Deanna opened the book. She had read quite a few books, but had never seen the hero of the story in person in real life. Its handsome hero was a Japanese samurai with long black hair. He had a strong brown body, and weapons that were spectacular and mesmerizing to women.

And while this story is by no means Vida Mistral’s wildest work, it is nonetheless very powerful. And while this story is by no means Vida Mistral’s wildest work, it is nonetheless very powerful. Its style was delicate and about as lyrical as it could be. And he was much softer in the book than she knew the character to be.

Now she was ready, but paused, wanting to consider whether she really wanted to masturbate. A few minutes ago she had craved it so much that her whole body had been ready for a visit from her fingers. But now she hardly wanted it, and didn’t need it. This story, a night like this, her fantasies could help. And they were exactly the kind of excitement she desperately craved. She took a deep breath, focused her mind, and began to read …….

It was a damp night, as many nights are in this season. Kaige looked at the sleeping man before her. She prayed he would dream of her.

Master Kazito, it is I! Your Kaige, your wife, do you remember what we used to share here? Before thou wentest to war, but thou cam’st back, and thine eyes were clouded with killing.

Dressed in a lace-studded silk gown, she knelt beside the short, flat bed and touched her fingers to the edges of the sheepish mattress. She hardly dared to touch the man. It stung her deeply and made her feel the fear that things had changed between them. But a month ago, they had been so close.

She was his new young wife. She had many of her new handmaidens get her ready for bed. They bathed her and perfumed her. They arranged her black, long hair until it was dark and shiny. Ignoring her protests of embarrassment, the maids opened her pristine legs and caressed her sensitive pussy for the touch of her new husband. At the same time, they opened a book her mother had given her: the Head Covered Pillow Book, so that she could see more clearly the lascivious, but very delicate, pictures of men and women having intercourse. By this time, her abdomen was aching and her pussy was aroused by her husband.

Then, obeying his wishes, she had long since opened her door to him. And her handmaidens, with slender rods made of ivory, took her virginity, and she ached for a moment, yet came ready to meet him. She had long ago asked the gods of carnal conflict to make her brave. Had her husband been as hard as that thing, she I must learn to bear it.

I am so ignorant! She thought so now. That rod had been crafted with care. And she was glad that her husband’s genitals resembled it. But that was all that was good about that rod, only the resemblance. There was nothing alive or dynamic about that cold, hard thing. When Kazito finally took possession of her, he was indeed as hard and straight as that rod, but the difference was that inside her it was so warm, so smooth, that she couldn’t help but cry out, a sound that clattered against the sliding paper door and seemed intent on making her ecstasy known to the whole family.

“Kazito.” She softly whispered as her pussy flooded.

Every night when he went out, she would remember the night’s entanglement and ooze juices like lotus dew. She would wake up from a nightmare, her whole body all wet and aching. That’s when she’d find the rod again, soothing her longing for her husband. She would take the cold, hard rod, put it inside her, and play with her fingers in her labia, just as her husband had done. When the orgasm came, she rushed to the heaven of joy as if out of her body, thinking of his handsome face and murmuring his noble name.

It was an excellent and effective book, Deanna knew. Almost without having to fantasize, her hips swayed with it and her warm inner muscles tightened under her unconscious and skillful caresses. She didn’t cry out, but as she caressed between her legs, she realized that she was as hard to please as Kaige. She gently caressed the pussy door and turned her attention back to the book …… Early in their married life, Kaige had often taken total pleasure, total satisfaction, on the mat. She didn’t need the cold rod at all. Every night her husband was always solicitous for her company, and sometimes he would woo her in a slow and courteous manner. At other times, he took her like a wild animal. He made love like a warrior on the battlefield. And in this world of courtship, there is no shame in submission. At least not for Kaige. She’d long since indulged in that sweet pain as he charged inside her.

Sadly, however, this joy on the clouds is short-lived.

“Ms. Kegel, I am committing my estate to your charge.” He spoke thus on his last morning.

Before straddling his warhorse, he made a deep bow. This resignation was formal. Though Kaige was sad, she bore it all calmly. In her perfumed bedroom, he bid her a sincere farewell and encouraged her.

Her internal struggle lasted for months and left her sulking. But as he had given her honor, so she was to give herself honor. And their reunion in front of their families had been just as repressed and calm as it had been when he’d first enlisted. But what haunted Kaige now, and stung her deeply, was that they were as detached in private as they were in public.

Unlike the women of the Shogun’s court, Kaige was fortunate enough to be in full possession of her husband, who had returned from the battlefield. At least his wounds were few. Yet she was saddened to sense that his heart was suffering far more than his body. However justified and noble the reason, the fear of war had wounded him deeply. At night he no longer invited her into his bedroom, even though she could sometimes still catch the black spark in his eyes.

They didn’t say a word on that matter, but Kaige’s wisdom told her that her husband was afraid of being sexually impotent. And his pride and facade made him reluctant to confirm this fear.

Can they make love again?

Stop it, Kaige, she told herself sternly, glancing again at his sleeping face. He was an uncompromising Japanese samurai, and such failures did not exist. Her pale features took on a resolute look as she turned to a small china chest she had brought with her.

Kazdo, she screamed again, wanting to touch him. But she knew that the moment had not yet come. He had taken the sleeping pills the psychiatrist had started him on, but they should have eased by now.

For a while, she wondered if he was pretending to be asleep. Did he think the mask of feigned sleep would save them both from embarrassment? How could Kazuto, a brave man and the Shogun’s right hand man, admit that he was sexually impotent?

She smiled at the thought of the mask and brushed her fingers over the black case before turning her attention back to the sleeping man. It was a shame to cover up Kazito’s handsomeness.

It was his handsome face that initially captured her. His face was so handsome, pure and detailed that it looked like a woman’s. But his face possessed immaculate sideburns and beard, as well as striking scars from earlier wars. But nevertheless, his face was like the finest statue, so well proportioned and harmonious. Without his shaggy and manly features, Kazidor would have been as beautiful as the most favored of mistresses. This beauty combined his wisdom and shrewdness with his strong and sturdy physique, his talents, and his accomplishments. These were the things that made her fall in love and adore him. And of all his talents, she was most enamored of his performance in bed, a talent she wanted to save.

But the man before her is a warrior of the highest caliber, and a military man of the highest caliber. She must use the slickest of excuses to keep his warrior’s honor intact.

In this hot and humid weather, Kazito slept without a quilt or sheet, his slender and strong body, clothed only in a single, thin robe. And he was undoubtedly plagued by many of the same nightmares as Kaige, to the point of tossing and turning restlessly. As a result, his robe was almost loose. And she could, at this point, have had no trouble slipping her slender fingers over his body and leaving him naked.

For someone like Deanna, who was a visual type, the sight was easy to visualize. She hadn’t seen Jack fully naked yet, but she could easily see it by imagining it.

The rest was a bit trickier, however, but did the smooth and coolly handsome man have a beard or mustache? She was quite interested. After thinking about it for a while, she agreed with Kaige and added a beard to her imagination. He still looked handsome and hairy.

She smiled, and continued to read …….

Kaige sighed.

Even just the look of him asleep could still excite her. Silky juices oozed from between her legs, staining her fragile kimono. Her small, well-proportioned, beautiful breasts ached a little and hungered, they craved the touch of her noble husband.

He was still asleep, but even so, his still cock was still impressive. She still remembered its warrior-like valor inside her. Her fork of determination increased. She would have him again, and that was before long. It was as hard as a stick and as soft as a breeze into a reed when it entered her. She could feel him surging into her in the near future, and silently prayed that God would give her the guidance she deserved.

She took her eyes off her husband’s beautiful naked body, turned to a shiny box, and opened it, containing something strange.

On the upper level there are two paper masks, painted and with holes for eyes, nose and mouth. In design, they look like those used in traditional theater. But because the raw material is paper, not wood, they are light and comfortable to wear. One depicted a powerful, but notorious landowner; the other a peasant girl, low in social class, but intelligent and beautiful. Kaige smiled thoughtfully, remembering the peaceful times before the war, when everyone loved to act out simple but elegant plays.

Underneath the mask, on the other hand, were several ceramic bottles, and as she pulled them out, she caught a whiff of a refreshing odor.

The lovely scent must have reached his nose as well, because he suddenly began to sway, and his thick black lashes began to vibrate.

Intuitively and as deftly as she could, Kaige leaned over and fastened the landlord’s mask to his face. For a moment she thought his acute senses would keep her from succeeding, and that she might attack her or summon his guards. But it turned out that only his eyes, through the two small holes in the mask, were glittering. As he watched her put on her own mask, she knew that he had gained insight into her intentions, and he had learned how much she wanted to regain their old intimacy without destroying the integrity of his face.

“You may rest, noble stranger.” She said, and enhanced the drama with a tone that sounded like singing. “I apologize for taking up your valuable time, but may I make a small request of the noble one?”

He nodded, and Kaige’s heart couldn’t help but cheer. She continued, and with a deep bow, “I am a humble medical student, and I would be greatly honored if you would allow me to examine your noble body for my academic studies.”

A long pause ensued while Kaige hardly dared to breathe.

“Come, scholar,” he said at last, his voice low and carefully controlled. “I, too, value scholarship, and would be happy to assist you.”

“Thank you. You are very kind.” Now she bowed more and lower, so low that her mask was almost pressed to the top of the tatami mat. “Please there is no need to move, my lord,” she murmured, and straightened as she heard him fidgeting again, “Your present position has been most convenient for me to study.”

She opened one of the vials and poured some into a small, delicate porcelain bowl, and as an intoxicating aroma rose, she inhaled it as if tasting it. She repeated the same action with a second bottle, then a third, and a fourth. And she almost began to shake as well as the mixture of aromas engulfed her. Then she stirred it again with a small stick to make sure it was completely mixed, and when she was done, she smiled at the power of that content.

The druggist had made assurances about such a combination, but since Kaige was wearing a hood, he didn’t know who he’d sold the medicine to.

The oil of the perfumed tree is known to arouse the libido; vanilla has a similar effect, and petunia can have a sedative effect. But it is this last item that is the most powerful – the oil refined from the highest lotus flower, said to be the most irresistible aphrodisiac available today.

Kage stripped naked under the pretext of protecting her kimono and also noticed her lover’s eyes light up as well and she couldn’t help but pray that it was an auspicious omen. She dared not look at his sex though.

She dabbed on some of that oil and began massaging it into his chest and carefully taking care of every muscle as if she were actually examining his body. Her motive was actually to correct his sexual organs, yet she was having a hard time controlling her emotions. She hadn’t dared to get her hopes up, but the drug had had a strong effect on her. It had caused her labia to buckle, ache slightly, and swell with a strong desire for her intimate lover’s touch.

For a few almost endless minutes she massaged his upper body, and was glad that the small holes in the mask didn’t make her eyes wander. It wasn’t until she heard a moan emanate from behind the mask of her “research object” and his body began to sway that she allowed herself to glance at his groin.

Thanks to the Bodhisattva! Her lover’s cock bucked before her eyes, its hill swollen and weeping from rebirth.

It had become a warrior’s weapon again, it lifted from under its owner’s waist and invited a woman’s hand or body to embrace it. Kaige did her best to suppress the instinct to devour it immediately, knowing that this was still the moment of truth. If he failed this time, he would feel even more humiliated than before. So she carefully continued her exploration of his torso.

“Gentle scholar,” the man gasped from behind his mask, his authoritative voice suddenly husky and broken, “might it not be possible to expand the scope of your research a little …… I think you may have missed something. “

“Oh, thank you for the reminder, my lord.” Kaige replied humbly, hiding her excitement. “It’s not every day that poor scholars get to meet someone who cares about the advancement of science as much as you do.”

Still somewhat hesitant, she let her hand slide downward toward his stiff and wobbly wand. She marveled at the silky softness of his pubic hair and brushed him with her warm, oily fingers. Almost warily, she touched the upwardly raised organ, and she shushed with relief and pleasure when, instead of collapsing, it hardened and strengthened in her hand, as well as toeing up. She caressed him gently, but this time her gentleness was for his comfort, not out of worry. What was in her hand now was an actual spear, and her woman’s instincts told her that it would no longer lose its hardness-except under the best of circumstances.

She let her fingers dance deliciously over his body, feeling the quivering of every one of his veins. And his cock throbbed and spoke of its need for her body and the heavily dewy passage. And her other was teasing her biceps, they were so heavy on her body.

“O my Kyger,” he murmured, while his hips lifted her prize toward her. “O my gentle wife …… deliver me from this affliction …… and let me enter thy heavenly gates!” One of his hands tore off his mask impatiently, while the other reached hungrily for her.

“But, my lord,” she said petulantly, and with a false smile behind her paper mask, “I am but a simple medical student, bent on the advancement of science ……”

“You’re a slut and a goddess, my Kaige!” He yelled, his voice filled with desire and fulfillment.

“Come, straddle my weapon, or I can get up while you lie on your snow-white quilt!”

“All at your service, my lord.” She whispered and moved to the cushions …… then to her husband.

Her gate seemed to smile happily as he broke through, and as he filled her, she tore her mask off so that her yelling would not be blocked in any way.

“My love! Oh, my beloved!” She screamed, as he took her soul beyond the nine heavens ……

And she looked at her Kazidor-sama with the happiest of eyes.

Deanna let the book drop and her fingers twitched. Her imagination rippled, and her pussy was even hungrier than usual. She couldn’t bring herself to compartmentalize herself from Kaige’s body, but fiction and reality were too far apart. The Japanese samurai’s lover in Mistletoe’s book was now satisfied. She, Deanna, was not.

Was the story true? She wondered. Had Jack ever doubted his sexual prowess? And Mistletoe had restored his confidence? It seemed unlikely, but it was quite interesting.

Yet how could Jack not be strong? There seems to be zero flaws in his strength or confidence. And even more strangely, the less omnipotent Jack seemed to be even more attractive. Deanna was mostly in a leadership role when it came to people, especially when it came to sexual relationships; but with Jack, she didn’t stand a chance.

What would that look like? She mused. Make him bow, bow down? Should she be more assertive? Or take some gentle dominance, as Kaige had done with her warrior? Either way, the mere thought of it made her leap for joy.

Up until now, she had only touched herself for a moment, but she felt unbearably aroused and lustful.

The desire kept bothering her, intense and relentless, and her pussy had swollen and poofed and bulged.

It was as if Mistletoe had burrowed into her mind and used the destructive power of words to incite her. It was a kind of psychic masturbation, a sweet, mischievous, meandering magic that worked on the heart, the primary human sexual organ. Deanna’s visual and spatial imagination had made her incredibly sensual, and now she was hot and wet, and her labia were unfurling outward like the petals of a juicy flower. She was almost partly afraid to touch her clitoris, so she had to make a fork-like thing out of two fingers, making this muscular tension into a caress in itself. The tiny clit throbbed and quivered, and then seemed to swell to twice its original size.

And in her mind, Deanna saw many interesting visions. Visions from a dark abyss.

She saw herself, dressed in leather, tying canvas strips around a tense, cowering Jack. She was grabbing Jack’s cock, squeezing it, making him scream, while Misty was doing unspeakable things behind him. She heard him sob, saw him cum, and felt her hot pussy, like a demonic thrill …….

Yet in the real world, it was always her who cried. Her hands were between her legs as she squirmed on the couch. She also began to moan as her pussy tightened while her labia throbbed.

“Oh, Jack, oh, Jack,” she cried softly, how she wished he were by her side now, “how wonderful it would be if you had a twin brother too!”

Delia didn’t come home that night, and Deanna was now more afraid than jealous.

Normally she wouldn’t worry about it. She often didn’t go home to sleep herself, and Delia herself would occasionally spend the night with Russell. For Deanna, she was up to an hour unwilling to spend with the boy, but who knows, greens and carrots …….

But none of that is the point. This one was different. Jack is not Russell. Their worlds are light years apart, and Jack the man is dangerous in the extreme.

When Deanna realized she couldn’t eat her breakfast, she felt a sudden pang of resentment. Not hatred for her sister, because it was all just luck that made all this happen. Or fate. Or chance. It was all in the order of that coin to begin with, and there was a good chance that it could have happened to her.

Her anger is directed at Jack, and she feels it’s time to protect her sister. Delia has had a kinky night with him, and she’s the least capable of handling it if his demands go too far. He had a knack for brief encounters, but if there was a whole night, what tricks would he play? Deanna couldn’t help but start to get goosebumps at the thought, while her pussy started to get hot. She had never been so worried about Delia.

Yet she was powerless to save her. Nor could she do anything at all. It wasn’t as if she knew his address, and even if she did, it would be risky to rush off like that. Delia might still be with him. In his bed.

Deanna felt nervous and uneasy, but was ready to go to the office. She had become completely unlike herself. She realized that she kept her eye on the door, on the phone, on everything. She repeatedly paced back and forth in front of the window.

After that, she also found herself ridiculously irrational as she searched the subway crowds for a face that looked exactly like hers.

Deanna’s working hours were free and she could adjust them as she pleased. She took advantage of it and often worked from home; but Robin – who ran the partnership – often insisted that she had to be there every now and then, so that her clients could see her and prioritize their work. And today was one of those days.

Today was also a slow paced, overwhelming day. Her inspiration dried up, and even when she made things, they were trite and unoriginal. Everything about work and this hot city was dull and uninteresting. She tried calling Delia at Diggle International, but every time she got an answer that was either “in a meeting,” “out to lunch,” or a simple “not here.”

“Not here.” What the hell does that mean? Was she with Jack? Was she being courted or tortured? Or both, maybe? Deanna dropped her pencil and all she could think about was Jack, about him sitting in a big president’s chair and having Delia straddle him like she herself had done the last time she was in a car. She shook her head to wash it away, but the view changed. And yet it didn’t make it any easier for her …… This time she saw herself — or was it Delia? — lying on an oak table while Jack jabbed between her legs.

When she got home, tired and dirty, she heard the sound of a television in her apartment. Delia was back, it seemed. But was she all right? That was the point. Deanna was almost afraid to call out or open her mouth to ask.

As soon as she walked into the living room, the first thing she saw was a large, rectangular, white cardboard box. It was the kind used in fancy clothing stores, the kind Delia often ordered, but Deanna never had. Her clothes were packed in plastic bags …… if she ever ordered them.

The logo didn’t look familiar. She’d thought it would be “Jenny Legg” or “La Bora” or something ready-to-wear, but it was simply the word “Color West”. Reg,” or “La Bora,” or some ready-to-wear garment, but there was only a simple word, “Sassi.” Deanna recognized the Italian writing, in 36 point size. It was very plain, and very fashionable …… But why give it to a witch who turned people into pigs?

Jack is a macho man, but not a pig. Absolutely not. He was debauched, depraved, and super perverted; but he was the most cultured man she’d ever met. No woman-even her at her wildest-could ever take away his elegance.

She’d always assumed it was from Jack, but it could have just been Delia wanting to entertain herself. She might have been eager to spend some money because she had enjoyed excellent sex. Deanna herself often felt the urge, but she usually bought a painting or a couple of books. Or one of those big, handmade Belgian chocolates. It was like an orgasm to the gourmand.

When she opened the box, all speculation about its origin was unclear. At this point in their lives, only one person would buy such a thing …… Deanna touched the leather and her stomach began to churn. She took it out of the box and felt a little sick from the excitement. It was in keeping with Jack’s character that he would buy such a piece.

“Such a thing” referred to one of the most striking pieces of lingerie Deanna had ever seen – a corset of whalebone and lace, the fabric of which was flawless white leather. It was smooth and fragrant and exotic, and her fingers trembled at the touch of it.

Put it on for me, she imagined him saying. She could hear him, see him, feel him, and unconsciously, she cradled it to her chest. It wasn’t the same style as the ones she often wore, but she was sure it would be just her size; it was a lesser masterpiece in leather, and its thinness made it a bit like liquid. To her groping fingers it felt like cream, pure and debauched at the same time, and she felt threatened by it. The smooth, eerie feel of it made her happy to hold it to her chest like this. But could she possibly wear such an incredible thing? It wasn’t her at all.

“It fits.” Delia spoke calmly. “I’ve tried it on.”

Delia walked into the living room, not making a sound because she was wearing socks instead of shoes, and Deanna was so scared she almost dropped it.

“Oh my God, you’re scaring me to death!” Deanna put the piece of lingerie back in its packaging and then, as she looked a little closer at her sister, she couldn’t help but crease her brow.

She had expected Delia to be more or less different. A little more radiant, and a little happier, and in short a little more beautiful …… because of the sex, but Delia seemed to be her original cool and collected self. No hint of debauchery to be seen either. No hickeys, no bags under the eyes, no pale faces or yawns.

Deanna stared at her very hard, while Delia seemed unfazed and unperturbed. “You don’t have much time, Deanna,” she said quickly, and held out the box of tights again. “He’s sending for you at seven-thirty, and he wants you to wear this.” She shook the lingerie urgently while its suspenders danced fast and furiously, “so you’d better get your hands and feet up and get it on.”

Deanna took it back from her sister and touched the comfortable surface. “Don’t keep rushing me,” she replied with hateful spirit, “You haven’t told me why you didn’t come back all night. Got me worried sick.” She paused, feeling a little guilty. Yes, she had worried, but it was jealousy that did upset her.

“You pour us some wine and tell me what’s going on before I have to start getting ready.”

“You’ve had your tea,” Delia insisted, “And while you’re dressing, I’ll brief you again.”

She was already heading for the kitchen.

Will my sweat stain this leather? Deanna thought, hoping not.

She waited in her leather jacket, feeling hot and uncomfortable. She felt uncomfortable in this undergarment, yet far more disturbing was this urgent shift in her life. With this bizarre coincidence …… this felt as if she had traveled to the spirit world. She was fantasizing about Japanese geishas and samurai, while her sister was having sex with a Japanese bath girl!

But when she analyzed it more closely, it wouldn’t really be that strange. Jack was already of Japanese ancestry, so why shouldn’t he have a Japanese waiter?

Similarly, why shouldn’t Misty Stray make a play for Jack’s exotic features? Dark hair, the characteristic oriental eyes with the corners of the eyes up – these are all fascinating features of a fictional male protagonist. Especially when you’ve had a moment with him again. And it’s not so strange that things have happened so quickly and continuously. Since that night at the gallery, everything seemed to happen in a flash.

So Jack has a lady-in-waiting? So what? What really scared her was her sister’s description of her reaction.

Delia was amazed at the way her sister described her first time having sex with a woman as a matter of course. She was still amazed.

But mostly because of Delia’s calmness, not because of the detailed and nuanced descriptions. She was as calm as could be when talking about a woman’s hands touching her body and pussy. Deanna doubted she herself could be as calm as her sister …… She certainly wasn’t calm right now, because she couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.

Delia always blushed a little when she finished. But Deanna now wondered if her and her sister’s choices about sex were really that different.

Delia was happy with Alf, while she, Deanna, was drawn to the weird and wonderful Mistletoe. There was no difference between the sisters, except that Delia had turned her inclinations into practical actions. They’re both potentially transsexual, and they’re finally learning about themselves.

Delia shifted her position on the couch. The corset annoyed her; its tightness was so different from what she usually wore. She’d always preferred cotton or silk that was as light as a feather: panties that made her forget it was there, very small bras, and so on. And the boning, hooks, and lace on this lingerie was a major torture. She knew it was only psychological, but she still felt breathless.

The lingerie wrapped around her near-perfect figure and instilled a model-like elegance she’d never had before. It was in her nature to be bouncy, but the lingerie didn’t allow her to be. In it, she was forced to stand up straight and walk in a short, regular manner. She felt like a new woman, and the experience disturbed her deeply.

She borrowed a semi-formal gown from Delia, but that didn’t seem to help. Like the lingerie, the gown was completely foreign to her, but there was nothing in Deanna’s closet that would go with it. She slid her fingers over the fuchsia colored tunic and imagined the white leather that encased her underneath. Drops of sweat began to jump out, and she felt a murderous urge to rip them all off and say, “Fuck you.” But she didn’t really do it. Because behind the discomfort lay a new and unfamiliar sexual excitement. The constricting sensation forced her blood and organs downward, causing her pussy to feel an overwhelming tension and pressure.

However, all of a sudden Deanna seemed inspired, and her feelings about that lingerie changed. Completely changed. As the pressure she felt in her pussy increased, she learned about the dark charms of constriction. Her pussy lips felt angry and incredibly sensitive. She wanted to reach down and touch her, to put her hand between her legs, but the pink tunic was too narrow.

“Damn it!” She cursed in a thin voice, not sure herself if she was cursing the man who had given her this dress or the dress. He used it to control her, to dominate her. He had encased her in snow-white leather and enslaved her. And he hadn’t even shown himself yet!

As she thought about it, she felt a coolness drip down her spinal cord. Like the apparition of a long and elegant finger …… a man’s long, thin, perfectly manicured fingers.

And when she stood up and went to the window, the big sedan was already blazing …… outside.

Chapter 9: Two encounters

After Delia paid the cab, she climbed the stairs in three steps, thinking to herself, This is a pretty special way to break up.

She felt quicker, freer, but also felt some guilt, and an anger that almost made her dizzy. More than anything, though, she felt that she was indeed quite sexy. She opened the door to her apartment and couldn’t help but smile; she’d finally learned that she hadn’t been happy at all with Russell. Ironically, however, while the two were having a heated argument about breaking up tonight, she was actually achieving sexual fulfillment from Russell for the first time since she’d been with him.

She figured Deanna must have been happy about the decision as well. Tossing her purse on a chair, Delia walked to the kitchen to find a drink. Having gotten over her incident with Russell, she felt that she should have a nice drink at the moment. She mixed herself a large glass of quinine gin and took a long, hard swig.

Still, she couldn’t quite remember how the night had begun for her and Russell; anyway, they’d exploded into rage against each other later, on top of the plush felt of the clean white recliner. And, it was the first time she had ever had an orgasm without having to fantasize about it.

More than half a minute after finishing, when Russell was panting over her, she was still debating whether to stick with the breakup or give each other another chance to start over. But she’d tasted better sweetness. It was also on the basis of careful consideration that the images of Deanna and Jack’s wantonness came to her mind and shook her will. Tonight’s orgasm had been a fluke, she thought, the result of a violent outburst of mutual dissatisfaction. If she continued to be with Russell, it would be back to the same old routine of going to bed, and his monotony would kill the pleasure of lovemaking.

She took a sip of her wine and said softly, Goodbye, Russell, it’s over. The time with him had been dreary and painful, but after all, I had learned a few things. Not the best, rather not. It was a calmly thought-out parting, but it was like putting the final seal on something.

Delia drained her glass and stood up to pour herself another.

“I’m turning into an alcoholic,” she thought. But the heart was still pleasant, and mixed with wicked pleasure.

True, she had been drinking more lately, but these recent days were just so different from the past; she had experienced a wild, sexual transformation. But she knew that this kind of merriment, like its course, couldn’t last forever. At least for her.

Maybe Deanna could, she wasn’t as cool and calm as Delia always was – except when Deanna was with Jack, she was a little worried and there was a hint of jealousy.

Delia sat back in her chair and took off her high heels, secretly thinking that Deanna must have enjoyed a wild and wanton sex session last night as well. She reclined back in her chair, her legs swaying as she sipped the glass of wine she held in her hand, and at that moment she suddenly felt a rush of sticky, wet bodily fluids between her legs, left over from Russell’s time inside her last night. The sensation made her feel aroused, and she remembered that morning in the office with Jack, and was surprised by his constant flow of cum. The cool, sticky liquid let her know what she was doing. The guy had only been meeting Delia for a few minutes and he was actually fucking her.

But what was he doing now? Possessing Deanna at will, like a monarch, in the splendid room he had set up?

She took another sip of her wine, thinking about how strange her sister had found it when she’d told Deanna that the woman Jack had left for the night wasn’t sleeping in the same bed as him.

Delia was surprised even then. She’d fallen into an orgasmic stupor and drifted off to sleep then, but she hadn’t expected to sleep so well that when she woke up she realized she was lying alone somewhere else.

She awoke to find herself in another room, one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever seen, that had been carefully set up by a designer with a luxurious antique bed, it looked like the boudoir of a high-class whore specializing in serving the rich and famous.

While Delia was wondering whether it was Jack, or faithful Fargo, or Alf who had carried her here, by this time the Japanese girl had brought in breakfast. The breakfast was exquisite, freshly hand-baked croissants covered with creamy jam and richly textured espresso. While she was eating her breakfast, Alf was also preparing her bath. Later, after she had soaked in the fragrant bath for quite some time, Delia stepped out of the tub to find that her clothes had long since been washed, ironed and folded flat, one by one, even her panties.

Jack, Mr. Busybody, had apparently gone out for the day, but his men were just as very dutiful in doing their respective parts in his absence. As Delia was preparing to leave, Alf handed her a cardboard box containing the leather corset, along with Jack’s written instructions on how it was to be worn.

Deanna couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the words on the note, and Delia knew that in fact her rebellious sister wasn’t going to follow Jack’s words exactly. That was Deanna’s style, she always resisted all kinds of authority, especially from men. Delia always felt like she was always up and down in terms of winning and losing and succeeding in things. Like this one with Jack was no different, and if her sister Deanna was really going to be upfront and give herself the upper hand, then this game of Twins didn’t have to be played anymore.

Delia didn’t want to think about the outcome of the game, thankfully that’s when the knock came on the door, her feelings were mixed, standing up she walked over to open the door.

Standing in the doorway was Peter, a somewhat awkward-looking figure in a pair of baggy shorts and an ill-fitting T-shirt. But Delia wasn’t so much attracted to his ridiculous outfit as to his fiery gaze.

The look of him broke her heart, his gaze casting over her.

They had talked calmly once after that drunken, fish-filled session, so at least now the atmosphere between the two wasn’t as awkward as it could have been.

But his gaze seemed to mean something else at that moment; his eyes were dark and wild, his pupils large and black, burning with desire. But the strangest thing of all was that he wasn’t just staring at her, he was also staring at the clothes she was wearing. At first Delia was really confused, but it wasn’t long before she realized why.

It was very hot tonight, in such an annoying season. So when Delia got ready to go out, she felt sweltering. She changed out of the two-piece suit she was going to wear and walked over to Deanna’s closet. From the dizzying array of clothes, she picked out an elegant, loose-fitting T-shirt from the latest fashions and a matching skirt, which was exceptionally elegant on Deanna. The “sloppy” look of the outfit made Delia look a little odd at first, but in fact it was so light and handsome that she was happy with it. And because of it, Russell was annoyed when he first saw her tonight. He had often criticized Deanna’s dress, finding it too sloppy and casual. And tonight Delia was dressed like her sister.

Delia realized what the problem was, Peter was staring at her dead in the face because what she was wearing tonight just made her too much like Deanna, the woman he loved.

He froze in his mind when she reached for him and motioned for him to enter. “It’s me, Pee, I’m Delia, only I’m wearing Deanna’s clothes so it’s cooler.”

When he entered the living room, he stood and stared at her, a look of confusion and frustration on his handsome face. After a few minutes, he shook his head, took off his glasses and wiped them with the corner of his coat. He looked a little nervous.

He said, “This is the first time in years I’ve recognized you all wrong.” He put on his glasses, and through the lenses he gazed at her pale.

Delia asked him, “Is it because you want to see her so badly?” She tried to make her tone sound less sour.

“I’m not sure …… sure,” he replied, exchanging positions uneasily between his two feet to support the weight of his body. “Ever since that night, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

OMG! Delia cried out inside in despair, weren’t things bad enough!

Despite this, she felt a pleasant wave of complacency. There had never been any animosity between her and her sister, Deanna, because they each dated different types of men. But Jack’s presence had changed everything. They were now in competition. While her love for her sister remains the same, she senses that she doesn’t really have a chance of winning. Deanna was wild, voluptuous, more practical, and sexually, her sister was more of a target for everyone’s coveted attention, compared to herself.

So now she felt happy that Peter actually liked himself equally as much as he liked his sister. And it wasn’t just liking.

Delia surreptitiously shifted her gaze downward, resting briefly on the floral shorts Peter was wearing, his groin noticeably bulging.

Realizing Delia was looking at him, Peter couldn’t help but blush. He blushed attractively, with a strange glow on his face. He murmured, “I’m sorry,” and clenched his fists uneasily, as if trying to hide his already bulging desire by using his hands to cover his crotch area.

“Why bother apologizing?” Deanna told him. At the moment she felt a thrill of being able to manipulate others. For the man in front of her, she could satisfy him or reject him. Tonight’s showdown with Russell had been sexually liberating; whether Peter, poor guy, could do the same was up to her tonight.

However, Deanna did not want to hide from Peter that she was sleeping with a woman who had already been “used” by another man tonight. Peter always said that he respected her freedom to make friends, but he would be deeply unhappy if he knew that the wetness of her bottom was mixed with another man’s semen!

“I guess I better hurry up and take a shower first”, Delia thought. Time was of the essence when dealing with a man like Peter. If she inadvertently showed hesitation, the naturally formal and shy man would probably back off.

At this point Delia had a sudden desire to take another sip of the wine she just had in her hand, her mouth teased with desire. In fact, the answer was already obvious.

Feeling full of feminine tenderness, she smiled at Peter and said, “Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, yes, yes!” He gave her a smile back, no longer seeming so trapped and nervous.

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll get your drink for you. I’ll have a quinine gin, how about you?”

“Oh, yeah! Me too,” and he stumbled into a sitting position.

Delia picked up her glass and walked out of the living room, snickering in a way that only she knew was vaguely evil. And that’s when Peter grabbed Deanna’s magazine in one hand and flipped through it.

She drank the rest of the gin in her glass, a smile still spreading at the corners of her mouth, before pouring herself another large glass of quinine and pouring it down. She didn’t really have much experience in dealing with things like tonight, she thought, but judging by common sense, she knew that alcohol could have an amazing effect on the most sensitive parts of the body, especially on the male body.

At the moment she suddenly wished that her sister Deanna could teach her some lessons. Deanna was very experienced and daring in sex; she had never had any doubts about her sexual prowess. She had done far more than her sister.

Though at this point that hope was just that, a new thought was created in Delia’s head. At this moment, facing Peter, how she wished she could be as great in bed as her sister, but just her skills, she wanted what Deanna could do, not wished she was Deanna. Suddenly she wished it was herself, that it was herself and Peter enjoying a great sex session, not the crazy kind that Deanna and Diggle had gotten a little perverted about.

The idea was pleasant to Delia. She didn’t need to pretend or worry about anything, she just needed to be herself and enjoy herself. She couldn’t help but smile as she poured herself a glass of quinine and made a strong quinine gin for Pee as well as she walked into the living room.

Peter had long since put down the magazine in his hand and was half lying on the sofa; his glasses were off and his eyes were closed as if he was a little tired.

Was he tired? Delia knew exactly how tired a man could be when he experienced an erotic high. She walked quietly over to him, quietly put down her glass and tiptoed over. She lifted her skirt and knelt at Peter’s feet, and he seemed to jump and open his eyes when the hem of her silky dress touched his ankle.

Delia knew he was nearsighted, but at the moment their eyes were locked together in a heart-to-heart. She takes the initiative, and he realizes and accepts it.

“You can choose not to,” he said softly, trying to raise his volume as if he thought that would break the temptation before him.

“But I want to.”

Delia gently placed her hand on his bare leg and she felt him shudder.

“Well …… if it’s going to be …… Oh, God!” His voice trembled with violent head shaking. Delia was rubbing her hands on his thighs and was fumbling in the gusset of his pants.

“Oh god …… hurry up!” He groaned.

Delia kind of had to tease him. She reached her hand back and rested it on his knee, as if she had the right to decide whether or not she wanted to continue. She felt him sweating slightly, his cock was swollen and straight, and from all indications he was in a state of extreme arousal.

A force was pounding inside Delia, the ground wanted to vent. She reached over to undo the strap on his shorts.

The knot in his pants was loose and easy to undo, and it didn’t take her more than a few seconds to easily snap the drawstring as her hands continued to search, her fingers hooking around the briefs and then in one smooth motion she pulled his shorts down along with his underwear.

“Come on!” Delia gently urged, at which point Peter, tame as a child, raised his hips. She jerked his clothing down to his ankles and his penis swayed slightly from the external force of this undressing action, Delia suppressed a laugh at the ludicrous sight. The tip of his penis, already wet, continued to thrust downward, while sweat continued to drip from his lower abdomen.

Deanna sat on her knees, scrutinizing the sight before her. The male’s penis was naked and upwardly rigid.

A thought erupted in her mind, a thought that caused her to become aroused in a way that she hadn’t enjoyed before. She would never have wanted to suck utter that lesser thing on Russell, but at the moment she wanted to taste a man’s cock in her mouth.

Peter’s cock wasn’t as big and hard as Jack’s, like a twentieth-century Japanese samurai’s longsword, and what Peter possessed wasn’t the sharpness of an arrow. His was firm, rigid, beautifully shaped, and long, its moist glans triggering desire in her mouth. Even now, as Delia was gazing, a drop of bodily fluid oozed out.

She wondered if Peter’s tasted like Jack’s.

Her thoughts went back to the red room and the man lying on the couch. She wondered if Peter’s flavor tasted slightly salty as well. Or did he have a different flavor of his own?

There’s only one way to find out the results.

Delia scrutinized intently as she reached down to stroke Peter’s firm, multi-veined bottom while he couldn’t help but moan and clench his teeth, both eyes squeezed shut, able to submit, to be at her mercy.

Delia couldn’t stop herself more and more, she felt the pleasure of wantonness, she wanted this experience, this complete mastery.

She motioned for him to lean in a little closer to her, then leaned forward between his legs so that his legs were straight. She pressed down on his spread knees to bring his lower part as close to her as possible, and by this time, his cock was straight in front of her eyes and against her mouth. And when she bent down to lick his rock-hard bottom, he screamed like a child.

She felt him shuddering and shrinking back, his head twisting and his neck looking a little vulnerable. Delia would have liked to continue with the other frantic maneuvers, but what she wanted most was his naked bottom, his groin, his thighs, and most importantly, his cock …….

As she just gently began to suck him, his cock jerked in her mouth and his hips continued to squirm. It was as if this move of Delia’s was too much for him to handle and he tried to get away, but how could Delia let him slip away like that.

He was the reward she had been given, the fountain of her joy, and she decided to do whatever she wanted with him. She grasped his erection with one hand while holding the pubic lobe with the other.

Now that his cock was hers, she could do as she pleased. She was going to feel its heat, its hardness, and she was going to exhaust him, taking every last drop of that silky-smooth semen.

But take your time, there’s no need to rush, because it’s not just that yet. For Delia, this was a lesson she had learned, so taking it one step at a time was fine. She had to take her time, to savor, to remember every reaction of this man, every inch of his flesh, every taste.

Though Delia was still a beginner at this sort of thing after all, there was no doubt that she knew how to manipulate this man. She was able to play with him easily, and he became her slave to do with as she pleased.

With the man’s prick in her mouth, Delia’s mind was engaged in a thought process that was as seductive and ecstatic as her sucking. A slightly salty liquid continued to ooze from the tiny hole in his glans, and as she sucked harder and pulled it further out, the man grunted as if he were being tortured.

She realized that his hands were wrapping tightly around her head, his wrists and arms trembling violently. Lust was so intense that he was fighting his own erupting lust, and to keep his balance he had to grab her by the hair and keep pushing his cock harder and harder into her mouth. At the moment Delia had drops of sweat running down her cheeks and his cock in her mouth, but was quite calm and aware of what she was doing.

She could feel Pee-wee struggling, longing to thrust, cum, and come, but feared it would leave her unable to exhale. Finally, he made a whimpering sound and shouted her name, not “Deanna”, not “Dee”, but “Delia”.

She almost laughed out loud from the triumph she felt, but since she was mooching and sucking on the glans, and was grasping it, over and over again, until she felt a little ringing in her ears, while tears leaked from both eyes from the excess of her exertion.

The response she got was a series of loud grunts from Peter, the sound echoing throughout the room. Peter was the most gentle man she had ever seen, but look at him as he climaxed, both hands gripping Delia’s head in a death grip as a steady stream of sticky, warm cum poured out and overflowed her mouth. One at a time, his cum gushed out and ran down Delia’s neck, and she was sucking and swallowing as hard as she could, while at the same time, she was paying attention and listening to what this man, whom she had driven to a near dizzying frenzy, was screaming.

His chest was heaving and he was gasping and moaning, probably still in the midst of orgasmic convulsions, so Delia couldn’t be sure if he’d said he loved her.

“When a man climaxes, he can say anything”, Delia thought as she let him draw away from her mouth. Kissing the tip of him lovingly, she thought to herself that what he had just said was nothing more than something to hear suck.

She kissed his inner thighs again, his thick hair covered groin area, and then …… Delia couldn’t help herself and kissed his soft rod shaped sex again.

As she began to lick it again, though, she found Peter’s fingers wandering through her hair with unusually gentle movements, each stroking motion like a response to her sucking.

As Delia adjusted her position and gently closed her fingertips around his scrotum, he murmured, “Delia, I love you.”

As if in a dream, she felt that what she was hearing was nothing more than platitudes. She continued to suck.

“Dee, you look really provocative,” Jack complimented Deanna as she stepped into the car and sat down. Her heart thumped at how Jack knew what she was wearing. She tried to put on a cool demeanor, but, thinking to herself that it was unlikely, as her lower parts were already heating up.

She felt awkward and hot in Delia’s clothes. She thought about this man’s almost perverse fetish for women’s undergarments, and he was close by, and all she longed for was to be close to him, to have him inside her …… Deanna felt hotter and hotter all over.

In the midst of all the confusion, a strange thought struck her. Had Jack tampered with the leather? Had the garment been impregnated with an aphrodisiac that had gradually seeped through her skin and into her veins? If it wasn’t, why did the urge to make love come every time she saw him? Tonight was a little different, though.

Jack, a man with a penchant for leather goods, wasn’t wearing much leather tonight, which Deanna found odd. He wore a black silk shirt, no tie, buttoned up; Italian-style, black pants, loose-fitting and gorgeously tailored, which were so sexy they took your breath away; and a tailored satin undershirt with a black dot pattern over his shirt. The only leather item was the belt he wore, with its glazed silver and black buckle.

“Why so silent tonight, my dear?” He asked softly and leaned over to kiss the nape of her neck when Deanna caught a whiff of his perfume. The thick, fragrant scent came from his hair and Deanna was a little surprised that his hair was combed and organized in such a neat and tidy manner. She felt chagrined again as she realized that she could no longer help but squirm against his power and the dizziness was getting the better of her.

Jack asked her, “Are you uncomfortable?” He narrowed his thin eyes, but it didn’t diminish his charm in any way.

She secretly cursed: beast! Still, her mouth replied, “Oh! No, it’s nothing at all”, she tried to look composed, even put on a distracted smile and asked him, “Why do you think that?”

“You don’t feel ‘at home’, do you?” He said, moving a little closer to Deanna’s body again. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue over his upper lip, he looked like a wolf about to enjoy his dinner …… or some other tantalizing treat.

“Why feel ‘at home’?”

That’s when Deanna felt a little tingle in the hair at the back of her neck, as if a detector was checking it out. She knew that he was testing her a bit, but an instinct was also kindled in her to provoke him and to test him in some way.

Still he kept leaning up and saying, “For both of us,” his tone arrogant and firm.

Deanna’s heart beat violently as she continued to ask, “‘We’ means …….”

“Dee ……”

“What is it?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

By this time the two were close together. The two’s lips were intertwined, as were their bodies. Jack pressed her into the sofa chair and groped her, his hands wandering quickly and moving roughly; he groped like a bloody brat. She knew he was checking to see if she was wearing the tights he’d bought, and he squeezed her waist, her breasts, as if testing their elasticity.

She wanted to say, “You pig, I’m already dressed, in the clothes you bought,” but she couldn’t speak. He gagged her with his tongue, denying her the slightest room for protest.

Deanna’s entire body was almost on the verge of collapsing into the gorgeous sofa chair as she felt his hands sliding down and then grabbing her ass cheeks, and she could no longer hold back a moan as he continued to lewdly moan. The muscles between her buttocks and pussy tensed with sensitivity, and oh God, the familiar, maddening sensation. Her tender lower parts flared out from the stroking and her clit swelled. Instantly her sensitive organ became angry, it stretched and burned, all ready and waiting for the owner to whom it belonged.

But just as Deanna thought to herself that she would only be able to scream into his mouth, he suddenly drew away from her. His eyes were like blue glazes in the darkness of the night as he gazed at the woman lying before him, her limbs spread out. “Did you do …… what I told you,” he said, his eyes crystalizing as he roughly went to tug at her pure silk dress.

“You disobedient woman,” he said as he touched the pristine white panties she was wearing, which Deanna had deliberately worn, unwilling to follow his instructions. Therefore, his fingers roughly reached in, not at all genteel, and pinched her clitoris, pressing on the most sensitive part of her lower body, playing with it wantonly.

Teased, Deanna’s hips squirmed upward in response, but suddenly Jack jerked his hand back. Her desire was merely teased. She saw Jack straddle the console next to the chair seat and he impatiently pressed a button.

“Stop,” he growled, and the car immediately slowed to the side of the road.

“No,” she wailed, and she could anticipate the cold, frank, contemptuous look in Fargo’s eyes when he saw the mess she was in at this point.

“No,” Jack said coldly. Deanna hadn’t anticipated the consequences.

She slumped back in the seat of her chair, not daring to look out the car window, but she expected it to be a secluded, well-lit street.

Bewildered by exuberance and desire, Deanna froze as she waited for Jack to make his machine-like servant come around to the rear door; however, she felt astonished as Jack simply lowered the center dividing glass and said to Fargo, “Give me your knife.”

Deanna suddenly realized what was going on and her mind reeled.

She heard him say, “Keep driving,” and the sound of the dividing glass being shaken up.

“I specifically told you not to wear panties”, Jack’s tone was unusually mundane, while his other hand gently lifted her tightly pleated skirt below her waist, undid the drawstring of her bottoms and pulled up her pants. Then Deanna heard a slashing sound, and she suddenly realized what the knife had done.

He had said “no panties” and he was going to do what he said, so now he was ripping the pants off of her, cutting them into long, thin pieces. His attitude was so calm that it didn’t seem to matter to her, as if he was cutting the fabric. But Deanna suddenly thought, “He might …… be capable of anything.”

The panties were torn, and Jack tucked the knife back into its sheath and set it aside before picking up the pieces and stuffing a bunch of them into the pockets of his undershirt, playing with some of the rest of them in his hand, wrapping them around his left forefinger and unwrapping them afterward. He was thinking of the next way to punish her.

He continued to play with the shreds, “I see,” he sounded as if he were dealing with official business, “I’ll spare you, because we’re rushing off to a place where someone will do it for me, better than I can.” He let go of these rags of cotton and spilled them away, like flagstaff fluttering in the luxurious night sky. “But the debt still remains,” he paused for a moment and put on another coercive smile, “take off your clothes.”

“What?” Her pussy shook with fear mixed with excitement, “Are you crazy?”

“Not yet. Now, Dee, take off your shirt, or …… shall I cut it up too?”

Deanna “wanted” to take the dress off, and she had good reason to do so. It was Delia’s favorite dinner dress, and she would be furious if it was ruined.

Rather pleased with herself, Deanna turned her back to him, leaned forward with graceful posture, and reached out to pull her hair back over her shoulder.

“So, unzip me”, she said calmly. She didn’t want to make herself that much of a mess again, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Although, that said, the white corset only came down to her belly button, and if the dress she wore over the corset was removed, then her bare belly, pussy and ass were all in full view, with nothing but her garters and stockings.

Jack agreed, and he slowly and carefully unzipped her, with a purity of motion that represented the dozens, no, hundreds of other women he must have undressed as well. Deanna imagined those women stripped naked like herself, forced to perform unimaginable acts. She thought back to the time she’d been at Club Seventeen, where the men and women were nothing more than naked slaves, and where Jack had been scouting for women.

At the thought, her clit began to quake again, her labia tight and engorged.

But as she took off her clothes and tried to solidly put on a look of cold disinterest, her heart rang out in protest, “This is definitely not you, Deanna.”

As she folded the dress and placed it beside the seat, another sly voice appeared in her mind, “This is you.” Her thighs vibrated against a powerful force to keep her legs together to keep Jack from seeing her already wet lower part.

But the hidden voice then reappeared, “You want to, don’t you? Wanted people to look at you. Admit it! You’d do anything for Jack. Walk out of the car all naked and get sub-whistled at by strangers on the road, touching you with their fingers. Masturbating with your legs open in broad daylight, in public,” the demon in her mind egged on, “doesn’t that just make you feel aroused by the idea?” Deanna felt a little chagrined. “Even if Jack stopped the car right now and ordered Fagor to fuck you on the hood, then you’d have an orgasm from arousal long before the cold, expressionless guy took off his pants.”

By this time, Jack was still playing with the shredded cotton balls in his hands, and with a smile, he said to her, “Dee, spread your legs.”

Deanna did as she was told, and at the same time noticed something strange about her lower parts. She didn’t look down, but guessed that her pubic hair was already slick with wet bodily fluids, and the engorged, slippery recesses looked like they were announcing to Jack that everything was ready. Even as she stretched her legs, she felt a slight spasm in her clit area. If Jack had touched her immediately, she would have had a violent, humiliating orgasm right away.

But he didn’t touch her lower parts.

He tied a knot in the ragged strips of fabric torn from those bottoms and shoved them savagely in to her cunt, while leaving a cloth-like tail on the outside.

It was an embarrassing symbol of “insubordination”. The rags emphasized her naked, lewd bottom, and the wetness of her bodily fluids became more noticeable.

“This is to show you the results of your disobedience,” he said, and incredibly, it matched her premonition. “When I walk you up to Vida, she’ll know right away that you’re being punished.”

“Veda? Are we going to Veda Mistral’s? Mistletoe’s?” At the thought, Deanna’s stuffed bottom couldn’t help but quiver, her blood spurting with longing.

Going to Veda, unfolding before her eyes …… Oh, God! Wouldn’t that mean walking out of the car naked on her own lower half while pieces of her torn panties wiggled between her legs.

Jack’s smile was intimidating and cold. “That’s right, you’re going to walk off the bus like this, past Vida’s hallway, naked and naked, showing your pussy and these rags to the outside world.”

He leaned over to kiss the corner of her quivering mouth, and the saliva he left on her lips was cold. “Dee, you’re such a bad girl for not listening. Now you must be ashamed of that, but don’t worry, I’ll help you blindfold your eyes and ears so you can’t see who’s admiring your bottom …… or hear them booing at you when they look at your ass; and, the rags dangling from your legs ask.”

“I don’t want it!” Deanna yelled out. Her corset-wrapped body was sweating, her body shaking slightly from some of the exhilaration, and almost those ragged spikes were about to fall out.

But her words weren’t true: she could do it. Even, she wanted to do it ……. She had crossed the barrier, transcended the line: her world was natural and common sense, while Jack’s was dark, tantalizing, and contrary. The difference between the two was as different as day from night. But suddenly, she was glad she was in the shadows, able to perceive this difference. For Jack, walking across the porch of the house, naked in plain sight, was acceptable and expected. Just an extremely common occurrence. Now, it was up to Deanna to do as she was told.

As the car turned a corner, Deanna couldn’t help but wonder to herself how many minutes of dignity she had left to maintain. It was in the midst of this strange, obscene desire that she gazed out of the car for the first time through the darkened glass. They were hurrying down the crescent-shaped road, along the bank of the river, and before long the car turned another corner and pulled into a spacious front yard. Before them sat a modern mansion – not much of a mark on the exterior, a very machiavellian, secluded expanse. Only the quite wealthy could afford to live here, and yet, as far as Veda Mistral was concerned, everyone knew that she was a wealthy woman. However, as for Vida Mistral, it was known that she had a large secret income in addition to the books she wrote.

When the limousine stopped, Deanna’s courage seemed to shrink, and she looked at Jack pleadingly.

He grinned at Deanna and nodded, his face showing a mousy expression, his eyes crystallized like blue binary stars. For the first time in their brief and odd relationship, Deanna began to guess just how old he was. Perhaps from the rumors in the office Delia might know, but she never mentioned it, and Deanna landed no way of guessing.

Under the light front of this building, his hair shone, as black as a raven’s feather, and not a lock of gray hair could be found. The physique was firm and lean, very strong and agile. He gave the impression that he was in excellent condition in every way. The skin of his face was smooth, while his eyes were always shining, yet, just for a moment as the two kissed, if one looked closely, Deanna realized that his face was not wholly free of the signs of age.

His peculiarly Eastern eyes had laugh lines in the corners of them, the result of long years of smiling. Somehow, faced with this enigmatic man, Deanna knew she would do anything he asked of her, no matter how appalling, how counterintuitive, and contrary to her nature.

While Deanna was thinking about all this, Jack was pulling out of a bag a bunch of interesting and, for the moment, necessary things: a pair of earplugs, a black blindfold, and–Deanna’s heart snapped violently–a pair of bright, shiny, lightweight steel handcuffs.

“We always have to finish what we started”, Jack said softly, and before she could protest, Jack immediately cuffed her hands, both in front of her body, instead of behind her back like in a cop movie where you cuff a human offender’s hands.

Deanna’s first reaction was to yank at the cuffs, to struggle, but, within just a few seconds, there was a strange change in her state of mind, a cognitive change. In this situation of being bound, she felt safe, all her responsibilities were removed as if she had shed a layer of skin, and this state of mind was the best for her. Suddenly her body felt loose, soft, and strangely calm in this bondage, and she didn’t need to argue with herself about making choices anymore. Jack was now the dominant force in her sexuality, and even a simple gesture – leaning forward to allow Jack to put the blindfold on her – instantly touched her with pleasure.

Before Jack slipped the earplugs into her ears, he whispered in her ear, “Trust me, I’ll lead you.” And with that, her hearing was plunged into a dark silence.

A penetratingly cool breeze blew in and she knew the car door had opened. Then a pair of male hands helped her out of the car. Carrying her the distance of several steps, then across the threshold, then the marble or tile pavement, she guessed. She could only hear muffled noises, and she recognized Jack’s distinctive tone …… But she didn’t know if Jack was talking to the silent Fako, or perhaps which one of the frightened guards or passersby was gazing daggers at her naked, cloth-adorned bottom.

Deanna thought so, a fire of desire flaring up inside her, and when the person leading her signaled for her to stop for a few seconds, she instinctively spread her legs and shifted them a few times in a deliberately ambiguous manner. She was showing herself off, flaunting her ass, and then behind her ear, between her lips, someone was kissing; the word “slut” was heard. The voice wasn’t very clear, but the harshness of the words stung her like a brand. The hand from earlier reached up and grabbed her ass, twisting the firm muscles. She moaned, not caring if anyone would see or hear, her pussy thrashing painfully with unseen pleasure. Even his verbal insults had an aphrodisiac effect on her.

A slight, familiar throb rose from the soles of her feet, and it wasn’t long before she was propelled into an elevator, her hips still gripped, and then a finger slid roughly into her richly elastic recesses.

As the elevator began to rise, Deanna desperately wanted to get rid of the bloated feeling of desire to know if she and Jack were alone together or if they were followed by someone else. The small space was stifling and had a claustrophobic quality to it. She could only feel, and guess, Jack’s hand on her, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else around.

Deanna began to imagine herself placed in the center of a large group of horny men, watching Jack put his finger against her.

He slipped his hand into the resilient depression and flicked it while she resisted the itch, rocking her hips and spreading her legs lewdly. Then one hand dived into her pussy from the front, fingertips pressing against her clitoris, while the other went into her anus. Now she was being controlled by both front and back, and couldn’t help moaning roughly. She squirmed violently as the two forces, front and back, alternately stabbed and jabbed her, and as if following a beat, she swayed.

As she reached an extremely violent, wet orgasm, a cool breeze blew and she knew the elevator doors were opening.

Still controlled by her lower fingers, she staggered out, and wistfully fearful of the many people around her who would witness her shame and make fun of her.

“Please,” she pleaded, but her mind was still blank. She was being forced across a corridor, or was about to be led to a performance stage in a spacious hall.

After about a few yards of walking, the atmosphere of her surroundings seemed to change, and she heard faint voices up ahead.

The laughter and greetings were Jack’s and another man’s. Of that man’s voice Deanna had a brief memory, and it was recent …….

Chapter 10: Dear Mistletoe.

As Jack removed her earplugs, Deanna heard Vida. Misty Stray’s enthusiastic voice, “Oh my God! Cazito, darling!” Vida’s voice sounded very happy and exciting. Deanna, on the other hand, was eager to see what was in front of her.

I hope to see this famous author and the different kind of vision and insight that is shown in her books. Deanna prayed that even though there would be no God to hear her here, only the devil, even if it was the devil, that her prayers would be heard. After a moment, her blindfold was removed, but there was still a hand obscuring her vision, and after a moment, the hand was removed, and Deanna finally saw that she was in a room, and how many people were watching her humiliation.

In fact, there were only four people in the lobby of what looked like a luxury apartment: Deanna herself, still in handcuffs; Jack; a smiling stranger standing next to her, dressed in a peculiarly fashionable maid’s outfit; and the legendary Vida, a brightly dressed woman who stood in the beige-colored, luxurious room.

With confidence, Da approached gracefully, and like the last time she was at Seventeen, she had a strange beauty about her. Her long red hair was coiled in a high bun behind her head, like a crown. Her feet were in high heels, and she wore a rare, satin jacket; without the belt, it looked a bit like what was commonly known as a “duster”, but Deanna wondered if Veda had ever done any cleaning or other such grunt work in her life. She seemed to be the kind of person who commanded others to do things. …… It was amazing that she existed only for pleasure.

The belted jacket she wore was a bright peach-orange, a color that should have been very hard to look at with her red hair, but in fact, Vida looked great in it, her skin reflecting a clearer whiteness, her watery, threadbare eyes more flexible, and those lips, as if dyed with wine, had a magnificent reddish hue to them. This woman was a story: her shiny red crown of hair, her gorgeous black embroidered shoes, from head to toe, she was the beginning of eroticism. Deanna s body stirred fatally, and the ground remembered her sister s surprising encounter, also with the woman s …….

Deanna couldn’t help but shudder at the thought, mixed with aroused lust, “We sisters are both the same, Delia and Alf, and I’m with Vida.” What the hell did this Jack guy do to us?

Or were we originally predisposed to it? Could it be a spell? It’s all up to him to manipulate it.

“Kazito, how nice of you to remember my birthday!” Vida purred petulantly. She kissed Jack on the cheek, but still glanced at Deanna from time to time out of the corner of her dark coated eyes, “I never thought you’d give me ‘such’ a present.” Vida turned back to Deanna and stroked her cheek, but her eyes were still on Jack, “A brand new toy, for me I take it?”

If one were to judge by common logic, Deanna would have cursed the two of them and sent them to hell. Because she was an adult with her own discernment, how could she “give” to others like something.

But she was now in the midst of these two alien worlds, and all Deanna could do was stand there, corseted in a straitjacket, her hands cuffed, and her body moistened with arousal.

“Honey, she’s all yours”, Jack told Veda softly. Deanna felt a little jealous, but felt that the emotion was wrong at the moment. How could a “thing” be jealous of its owner? A plaything had no place or power to protest against Jack and his literary companion. Deanna’s only task was to serve them.

“Wow! Thank you, sweetie,” Vida said, gently twisting Deanna’s breasts. Then, leaning her entire weight toward Jack, she curled up against him.

It was the most sensational, sensual embrace Deanna had ever seen, no less sensual than the kisses she remembered from television or the movies. Jack and Veda’s lips seemed to have come together in a tight bond, kissing and exploring each other’s tongues. One of Veda’s hands trailed up Jack’s chest, shoulders, and neck, then her fingers delved into his shiny hair, messing up his neatly combed ponytail and rubbing it hard. Her other hand was at his crotch, cupping his quick erection and massaging it through his pants.

Deanna watched, mesmerized, as Jack’s lower part twitched violently right there in Vida’s palm, and she seemed to feel the same, highly swollen arousal conveyed by his twitching cock. Could he come in his pants? Would he cry out, then wilt in her hand? Could those red cardamom-coated fingers make him erect and touch his orgasm like that?

Just as Deanna was watching, Jack’s ass continued to twitch. He left Veda’s lips, his head tilting back, his handsome face contorting, his neck muscles clenching, and then he burst into an orgasmic yell. And as he spasmed in the crook of Veda’s arm, her lips pressed against his neck like a vampire’s morose teeth slurping up blood.

It was this vampiric kiss that made Jack’s whole body feel like it was electrified. He gently wrenched out of Veda’s arm and lightly embraced her upper arm, gasping, “You damned witch!” It was obvious that he wasn’t angry with her; he looked like he was pleasantly surprised. His body was still panting, his lips had turned a little purple from Vida’s kisses, and there was a small line of bruised teeth marks on his neck.

Vida pouted, “Do you want to make me happy too?” Her hands wrapped around his neck.

“Not tonight, Veda, but …… soon, very soon I’m going to need it.”

Deanna fell into a bit of a trance, but found it very new, when suddenly an image appeared in her mind. She saw Jack humbly bound. His lanky body bowing and bending to the monarch-like Vida, revealing his humble underbelly.

Without thinking, Deanna whimpered …… at the secret pleasure.

Vida turned to her, “I think this chick wants people to pay attention to her”, the woman writer’s voice was very pleasant, but in her eyes there were two flames, they were like emerald green arrows that drove Deanna into that heterochromatic erotic situation.

Vicky asked, “Have you fucked her yet tonight?” She rested one hand on Deanna’s waist and reached down with the other. Deanna felt her arousal being teased by those elastic fingers, and Vida seemed to be testing the amount and consistency of her bodily fluids, tweaking and stirring.

“No …… not yet”, Jack answered her. That’s when Vida put her finger to her lips and licked it a couple times.

“Mmm ……,” she tasted, her white face showing a very serious and concentrated expression, like a sommelier testing a wine.

“This wet moistening is truly delightful, just the right amount of salty, almost as good as yours, Monarch Kazidor.”

Deanna felt a glimmer of satisfaction that belonged in the real world, and she was inspired, trembling, and thinking that that story in the book was really, really true. If only she could ask some questions now …….

Jack smiled and nodded and didn’t say anything; Vida continued on testing the bounty she had been given. Deanna knew she was her birthday present. The redhead searched her hands with abandon, while Deanna felt a little dizzy from trying so desperately to keep that last bit of dignity she had.

Deanna found it a little eerie that her and Vida’s birthdays were so close together. This strangely dressed, incredibly erotic woman, with her spirited and sexy personality, was just like herself and Delia. Deanna thought about what had happened on “their” birthdays; the wine, the emotions, the fact that she had begged Jack to make love to her at the exhibition of his amazing paintings. However, that seemed so long ago, and now she had undergone a developmental change to the point where she was now.

Jack eased up behind Deanna and asked, “Veda, are we going to start?” His hands grabbed Deanna’s ass and shook it; while his silk-clad accomplice removed her white corset.

“Come on, let’s get started” Veda said, running her tongue around her lips, “Jack, this chick is awesome, what a great gift …… I can’t wait to drive her crazy. ” Vida’s eyes went wild as she twisted Deanna’s nipples hard, and she smiled as her prey moaned and backed away, falling back to Jack who stood behind her. “Bentley, close the door, will you?” Vida called out to the silent maid, whose presence Deanna had almost forgotten about and was now only adding to her shame.

Her legs were almost out of control, but Jack pushed on her hips and she eased herself forward while Vida took her cuffed hands and guided her, like a master leading a slave. Such were their status roles at the moment: manipulator and manipulated, deity and prayer, power and submission. But does Jack count? Is he just a bystander or a participant? Part of it all, or just watching?

“Dee, welcome to my sex kingdom”, boasted Vida, as they entered a softly lit, slightly scented and very peculiar room.

It was a dazzling house, half bedroom, half living room. Veda’s “Sex Kingdom” was made up of several lavish coverings that blended into a very symmetrical whole. Deanna was eager to take in every piece of decor, but something strange caught her eye.

Against the wall was a frame of rather elaborate design, the purpose of which could not be discerned, but was evidently for punishment. There were red leather straps with brass handles hanging from each of the four corners, and Deanna instantly imagined herself in the frame, with her limbs pulled apart and whipped. Whether this flogging brought excitement or pain, Deanna did not much care.

In the vision, Deanna saw Jack standing behind her, fully clothed, but with the zipper of his pants open. He impaled her lower body …… or some other part of her body with his penis?

Deanna immediately remembered the “low wall” painting and shuddered helplessly, fearing she was being sodomized, but at the same time feeling obscenely aroused.

This rack was not the only tool designed for sex; in another corner stood what looked like a long-preserved dentist’s chair, also fitted with straps. The chair was purple and black, and the legs and footrests had been oddly designed so that the limbs of the person sitting in it could be held firmly in place. In this way, the abuser – or lover – could stand directly between the recliner’s legs and start directly from below. Deanna’s stomach convulsed, every nerve in her body, every nuance trembling. Unbelievably, her desire was aroused, and all Jack and Vida were doing to her was merely equipping her to witness what made them happy.

Other more mundane items inside the room included a bed with a steel steel frame, some brocade chair cushions and velvet foot cushions, and an oversized French chaise lounge, which at a glance was also a valuable antique.

The only thing that was more of an aesthetics statement was the bar that could be called a punishment bar, like the chair just now it was lined with leather, a wooden bar with an inverted V shaped shelf supporting it on the side. It looked like a luxurious sawhorse, with the front end resting on a shiny floor and the back similarly lined with leather straps.

“There are just so many ways to dispose of you”, Vida whispered softly in Deanna’s ear, while at that moment Jack walked over to the recliner and sat down, unusually relaxed. Maid Bentley had gone over to where the light switches controlled the electric lights and was adjusting the brightness of the room as previously instructed.

“What are you going to do about it, Monarch Kazdo?” With that, Vida unbuckled the belt on her jacket, letting it slip off her shoulders and come off in a smooth fashion. Bentley quickly picked it up without letting it fall to the ground. Deanna watched and couldn’t help but freeze …… Veda was wearing a leather corset as well, but it wasn’t the same as her white one.

This style by Vida is very up-to-date and will be new to those who are just starting to wear it. Elegant sixties style, with a round, turn-stitched bodice at the chest, and rigid, close-fitting fine mesh. It was a salmon flesh color that was quite close to the skin; its suspenders hooked into a pair of popular brown gauze stockings that looked really good with her new, shiny heels.

Deanna stared at Vida’s dazzling corset, then at Jack’s appraising eyes, then back to Vida. It was obvious that the authoress had triggered his libido, and he was slowly massaging his pantyhose.

“Whatever you like, baby”, he said to Veda, continuing to mosey and gasp while his hemp-pant clad ass vibrated. “It’s your birthday, I just need you not to ask too much of her, it’s her first time. But she didn’t listen to me, she should be punished a little, but it doesn’t have to be too harsh, she’s got a nice ass, and it wouldn’t be good to leave a scar on it.”

He smiled and said, “You do it, I’ll watch.”

Vida made a gesture to Bentley and said, “Don’t worry, you won’t be able to tell there’s a bruise tomorrow, it’ll just be a little red and swollen, nothing too serious.”

It was as if the two of them were discussing something, Deanna thought so, while her cunt was stimulated and aroused. She was the object of their pleasure – a woman’s flesh – but was being treated like a child, to be punished for a small offense.

“Now, Dee, you must show your usefulness,” said Veda, moving toward her, “I want you to undress Jack, I want to see him naked …… Move neatly, chica, and take the undressed clothes to Bentley, how can such lovely How can you have creases in such a lovely dress, right?”

Deanna looked at the handcuffs on her hands, Jack then smiled broadly, came over from the recliner and said, “Don’t worry, baby”, and with a slight wrench of his fingers, he unlocked them and handed them to Bentley beside him.

Deanna felt discouraged and angry. She had been standing with the handcuffs like a fool for ages, when in fact she could have easily broken them herself long ago; they were nothing more than toys, like herself, and Jack had tricked her.

But the anger came and went quickly. Whether the handcuffs were real or fake, they were nothing more than a symbol of bondage, one of the many elaborate symbols in this room, necessary for Deanna and the two of them in their role in the relationship.

Now Jack stepped in front of her and waited for her services to remove his clothing for him. Seemingly intent on helping her, he walked back to the chaise lounge and gave birth, elevating but to make it easier for her to remove the black Italian penny loafers.

Veda was right, Jack’s socks were just as handsome as his clothes. Deanna loved his polished, hand-sewn shoes, and the pure silk socks inside caught her attention just as much. The toes were long and neatly trimmed, and like the rest of his body, they had a charming flavor.

Jack stood up again, ready for Deanna to remove the rest of the clothing from his body, and she found that this process of undressing caused her arousal as well. She had never seen him completely naked, maybe Delia had, but Deanna had always been very eager with him and Jack, so she had only ever undone his pants. She had seen his cock, felt it inside her, but Deanna had never seen or touched any other part of him that was naked.

Then she stripped him of his black wrought undershirt, and then his clothes. He leaned forward slightly to make it easier for Deanna to take them off; one by one she removed his clothes, and Bentley took them and folded them slightly, putting them next to the chair.

The firm torso inside the shirt made Deanna’s artistic cells let move, and she let out a breath, wishing she had a paintbrush in her hand right away. Jack’s skin was so smooth and soft, and his muscles looked toned, but not in that obvious bulging kind of way. When he was in motion, Deanna imagined, it must have looked a lot like a dancer or a sprinter doing tai chi or jousting. His muscles weren’t the hard kind, she thought they were a kind of strength, as if they had been calculated with surgical finesse; they were firm, just maintained, very smooth, and he hadn’t deliberately gone out of his way to make himself loomingly muscular.

Deanna found herself wanting to paint him, or to kiss his smooth skin, and for a moment she was so clumsy that she didn’t know how to undo his belt.

“Be attentive, Di,” his voice was soft, reminding her, and he paused to twist her nipple. Deanna found that the pain from this twisting stirred two kinds of arousal in her body: in the breast area, and in her lower clitoris. She moaned, unable to bring herself to do so, although she knew that the silent Bentley was witnessing this like she was immune, and that Vida was sitting on the edge of the bed, chin propped up, watching the action with great interest.

When Jack’s pants were also undone, Deanna hesitated a little. Very seriously, her consciousness was subjected to a slight stirring, and she was thinking about what she could be wearing inside these pants.

She had wondered at first why Jack didn’t have any leather clothing on him tonight. But she was fooled ……

Because he was wearing a dark and beautiful, not the silky boxer briefs Deanna had guessed earlier. It was a pleated, black leather brief with a raised piece in the center. There was also a strap that looked like a shoelace used to tie it in place. When he lifted his legs to remove the pants, she noticed that the briefs were almost without a back stall – there was only a thin line behind the buttocks connecting the hips to the cloth in front.

Velian watched, murmuring something about it being very nice, yet at that moment Deanna wanted to get down on her knees and kiss his body.

The organ in the panties, Deanna imagined, would be softly housed in the genital area. But the problem now was that Jack didn’t feel at peace, the paper-thin leather briefs were already jutting outward, by the urge that couldn’t be repressed. Deanna felt her hand shaking terribly when she touched his groin.

“Okay, stop,” Vida exclaimed out, stepping away from the edge of the bed, “well done, I like it, Kazidor, I know you’re wearing leather pants.”

Deanna wished that he would move a little at the moment so that she could see the side of his body, his long, firm bottom that jutted out from his crotch. Because from this angle only she could see his scrotum and the dark pubic hair that peeked out from the corner of his pants.

“This sweetness is not for you to taste now, Di, you will be punished first.”

Vida’s tone was gentler than the content of her words. Her fingers rested on Deanna’s right arm, very and gently, pulling Deanna away from Jack’s side and toward the punishment bar.

Like she was paraphrasing the most usual and commonplace of things, Vida stated to Deanna, “Di, I’m going to start whipping you, and it’s probably going to hurt a lot more than you think, but the upside is that it’s going to be just as sexually arousing for you.” She smiled, looking calm and wise, as if she were stating an eternal truth. “If you show enough bravery to take the pain, then we’ll make you orgasm later.”

Veda pushed Deanna toward that shelf while making a gesture toward Bentley. “But if you don’t behave well, then we won’t give you the satisfaction, and just think how much of a spoiler that will be.” And as Deanna walked toward the bar, she felt the woman who was about to torture rest her soft, cold fingers on her arm.

Leaning close to the rod, Deanna realized that the bony corset she was wearing was causing her a bit of pain, but she endured it as best she could. An already aroused libido that couldn’t be poured out must be very hard to bear, so Deanna had decided that no matter how painful the flogging would be, she would endure it, for the sake of sexual fulfillment and to show them her endurance and tenacity.

But at first Deanna found it difficult to overcome; Bentley was already cuffing her arms and legs, her limbs had to be stretched out unsightly, and the corset on her body was making the small of her back even more uncomfortable.

A pair of unknown hands behind her back helped her adjust her position, racking her legs, a look that made Deanna look even more lewd. She bit her lip to endure it. Then, from time to time, those hands were still wandering around the groove exclusion in her buttocks.

“She looks great, I think I like it this way”, Vida was talking with Jack behind her, tasting her. And while they were talking, the hands continued to roam behind Delia, but she had no idea who they were touching her.

Then suddenly the stroking stopped, and although Deanna couldn’t see Vida behind her, she knew the woman’s eyes were roaming over her, assessing. Her tone sounded pleasant, “That was wonderful, I think a glass of champagne would be nice before I begin, it always adds an unexpected pleasure.”

Then Bentley was summoned to bring out the wine, and Deanna felt that it was a long, hard wait. She couldn’t wait to get started, to try and see if the pain was bearable for herself. Even more, a voice won out in the back of her mind: she wondered if she would like it.

Deanna was surprised at her own reaction at this point, but she could almost guess why. Although, the whipping on her ass would cause damage to her genitals, her cunt was ready to open up, her labia red and swollen, a little engorged from arousal. Her clitoris was getting progressively harder, jutting out like never before, anticipating being stroked. Worse, she knew that everyone else had seen the changes in her body, longing for something to let off steam.

The door opened and was closed again, followed by the sound of an opening cork, and then Deanna heard a noise of wine pouring into a glass.

The clinking of cups.

“Here’s to our madness!”

“Here’s to it all!”

Deanna cursed in her mind, go to hell alright! Make me wait so long. Her hips twitched slightly with anticipation. She knew the two men were leaning in close behind her, watching her predicament like guests at a cocktail party. The two men were dressed in a way that showed their peculiar fetishes, which they found quite pleasurable.

“Yes, Kazito, she does have a very pretty ass …….” She touched Deanna gently, feeling the delicate texture of her ass, her fingers causing Deanna to involuntarily contract her sphincter.

“That’s lovely,” Jack’s voice filled, “but I think a little something decorative needs to be added …… here.” Another, sturdier finger landed on Deanna’s anal slit, then pressed on the elastic tissue.

She couldn’t help but whimper, feeling a wave of nausea when Jack touched that part of her, but couldn’t resist the pleasure. The desire for a foreign object to enter sailed dirty, but it made her lower parts wet and moist. Her leather jacket constricted her, but she still wanted to squirm herself, wanted to seduce him, even though she hated the lewd maneuver herself.

“I have this.” Deanna heard Vida walk over and turn back while Jack grinned.

“Dear Vida, you’re horrible!” Deanna heard Jack’s voice with childlike excitement, but on the one hand she was worried about what Vyllian meant by “this”.

“Do you want to be able to put it in? She’s tight and I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Put it in,” said Vida, assuredly, “I used to put it in myself …… Now, a little more cold cream will do it.”

Jack shook his head and laughed, not quite agreeing with this crazy sexual torture of Vida’s.

Deanna wondered wildly what it could be. It was going to be a dildo or something else that was going to be placed inside her body. A vibrator? But then she heard Jack pouring champagne and it dawned on her what it was. This little opera thing was going to be put inside her, they were going to “stuff” her.

Shortly after Bentley brought the cold cream and Deanna felt the stuff being coated and shoved up her anus, squeezing it in hard, its texture hated rough and thick.

“Brace her,” Vida instructed Jack.

Deanna felt that some fingers were pulling hard on the slit of her anus, and then “it” was put in. …… It was a champagne cork, and as they continued to push it into Deanna, she realized that the cork was so big and hard that they could not stand it. As they continued to push it into Deanna’s body, she realized that the cork was so big and hard that it was too much for Deanna’s anus to handle as they pushed it roughly.

“Oh! No, don’t,” she cried as a wave of appalling sensation took hold of her. As much as she vowed to be brave, this was too much, more than she expected. She screamed at the top of her lungs and shook her head desperately, but the two men continued. After a short while, presumably with Bentley helping Vida, Jack walked over to Deanna and crouched down in front of her, nearly naked and beautiful, to soothe the pain she was suffering.

He stroked her face, letting her tousle her hair behind her shoulders, soothingly, “Relax, relax, baby.”

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll feel scared just because you’re psyching yourself out, most people tell you that using the anus to increase your sexual pleasure is voyage dirty and evil …….” He began to kiss her, his tongue slipping into her mouth with the same rhythm Veda used when she was crowding inside her body.

Deanna whimpered, the emotion too strong for whatever he was telling her. Her cunt convulsed and quivered, almost climaxing with the stimulation of the foreign object behind her. And when that cork was finally put in, half because of the pain, she reached a violent orgasm, her body vibrating in her corset, and when Jack stopped kissing her, she chanted out loud like a wounded beast.

When Deanna regained consciousness again, Jack was standing in front of her. The thing in the back of his pants was erect and hard, sticking straight out. Unconcerned with her bonds and shame, and perhaps, strangely enough just because it was, Deanna wanted to suck him so badly. Regardless of the inner turmoil raging within her, she leaned forward with all her might, and in a very strange position, stretched her head and neck to take his sex in her mouth.

“Just suck it for a second,” Veda’s voice appeared, as if thousands of miles away. As Jack’s lower body twitched, his cock twitching before her eyes, Deanna made a last-ditch effort to open her mouth to meet it.

His flavor tasted very strong, salty and sensual, containing the remaining semen and passion from the previous orgasm, which now moored and overflowed. Deanna stretched her neck out in a less than comfortable position, like a hungry child who kept cursing and sucking.

But as Jack was beginning to whimper, he suddenly took a few steps backwards and withdrew his cock from her mouth. Like a master rewarding his loyal and humble dog, Jack patted her head. Deanna, despite her vow of silence and bravery in the face of it all, burst into tears.

She knew Jack had come up behind her again, admiring with Vida, a shackled woman with a champagne cork up her ass on display.

“Look, Kazito,” Veda murmured. Then Deanna heard a noise, and she knew Jack was starting to masturbate, close behind her. “Monarch Kazdo, I say! She is wonderful”, the cool sadistic female practitioner continued to touch Deanna with her hands.

Annoyingly, Deanna was touched with lust again, she whimpered and squirmed, and close by, she heard the male’s agonized gasp, “Oh, I can’t, I must fuck her.”

A pair of strong arms gripped Deanna’s hips, and immediately, a thick, smooth rod stabbed into her cunt, and with a sharp jab, he entered her and stayed, his sex in a parallel position to the cork that was inside her.

Despite being in a state of stasis, the sensation was still quite jarring to Deanna. Her entire flesh was filled and stretched with extreme force, her most private parts were engorged and quivering, but there was still a current of electricity coursing through to the front part of her abused body. Her nipples were hard as little rocks, and her clitoris, flaring outward from this tremendous external force, felt engorged with blood and was so hot, Deanna thought, that it might burst open.

As Jack continued to pump inside her, she screamed and sobbed like an animal, “I can’t take it, I can’t take it anymore.” The pressure was too much, his cock was so massive that she thought her lower belly might burst from the immense pressure.

As she almost stopped breathing and her screams faded, her final desire reached its peak. “Suck it!”

Vida ordered her, putting three fingers in Deanna’s mouth.

In her frenzy, Deanna closed her eyes and saw a fire behind her. She was nothing more than a piece, a piece of flesh now, never imagining that she would be used as such a plaything. Because of these strange thoughts of theirs, her mouth, her anus was filled, and Jack’s cock was pressed against her lower body. He was screaming wildly, wishing she could do the same, as he reached another orgasm, screaming obscene words under his breath. It was his second orgasm of the night, but the first inside her. He would reach a second one thanks to her ever seeping bodily fluids. However Deanna’s bladder could no longer be controlled and a trace amount of urine flowed. Realizing she had wet herself, she cried out miserably …… however not all out of shame.

The seepage of urine brought Deanna down quite a bit, yet the rude voyage of filthiness also aroused her all the more. A great tearing thrill carried through her entire lower half – clitoris, labia, bladder and rectum – and that thrill finally gathered in her vagina, tightening to meet Jack’s sharply throbbing cock. And as Deanna reached her climax, he released a long, wild scream that pounded right into the deepest recesses of her body.

Immediately after finishing, Jack pulled out and stepped back, swaying and stepping unsteadily, like a drunk. After Vida stuck her finger out, Deanna cried out as well, half because of Jack’s withdrawal and half because of the shock and novelty. He reached a very violent orgasm, but he was still thinking about it. His orgasm contained thought and tenderness.

He could have leaned into her with his full body weight and covered her, but he didn’t. Deanna could hear him gasping and chanting behind her, thanks to this furious coitus.

She also sensed it was Vida who was supporting him, calming him; helping him to the recliner. Deanna, however, was still strapped to the bar rack like a thing to be used and then tossed aside. Her body was still wrapped in the hot leather corset with the hard wire frame holding her up. Body limbs were still racked open and secured to the bar rack, the cork still inside her. Deanna had gotten wet, Jack’s cum, her own bodily fluids, and urine …….

Yet, incomprehensibly, Deanna felt elevated. A leaper of souls, she wished to remain in this bondage forever; to be satisfied with existence alone, to be a hedonistic instrument forever ref. Ready to Serve Jack and His Hunger …….

She looked exceptionally beautiful, sublime, wonderful and determined. Although her hands and feet were still cuffed, she knew she had gotten the better of Jack and had beaten him. He probably couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe the pleasure she was giving him.

Jack lay motionless in his chair, his breathing and heartbeat having returned to a steady state, his mongoloid eyes still fixed on the woman he’d just made love to. His Dee. His brave, surprising Dee. Though she was now a wet mess, there was a hardness, a resilience inside her that couldn’t be beaten. Especially since he was just as incapable of defeating her.

Although he knew he had lost, Jack vowed to try again. He would take her to the extreme and leave both in heavenly ecstasy. The thought brought a slight hardness back to his body, though that said he had only just had an orgasm and his cock was a little tired.

As his groin filled with blood and raced again, Jack wanted to come with Deanna again, immediately. Let the strength in his legs be consumed by her writhing and moaning, let his soul be tortured by her power. He realized now that she was stronger than Veda, something he’d never expected before. He had always been only inseparably in love with this female writer, thinking that his fetish was pretty much of that type. But now there was one even better than Veda. This woman was like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle that fit perfectly into his and Veda’s life. These thoughts once again made him hard again, ready to meet another fight right away …….

As he watched her, he noticed the juices seeping between her legs and couldn’t wait to get up from the recliner, run up to her and jab her. There was a strong surge of action in him to fondle and rub her breasts and hips, to get down on his knees and lick her wetness, but to do so would just give away his own uncontrollable fascination with her, and she’d feel the shiver that ran down his spine, know that she could keep him lean and in control. But there was no need to let her notice this so soon, the game had only just begun, and she still had plenty of fresh unplayed ……

Tonight she must still be in a humble position, experiencing the pain of being whipped, as well as the pleasure, she must be shown her humiliation.

Noticing the shift in his position, Jack stared at Deanna’s ass and the cork. Her stretched muscles smoothly encased it, and Jack imagined what it would feel like to have it inside him as well. For him, for his cock, it would be cause for considerable arousal. So warm, so tight, it was different with her than with any other woman …… He imagined Dee’s reaction, and the thing couldn’t help but stiffen up again.

Taking a foreign object and shoving it up his anus, Jack would be no stranger to this kind of play, the horror and shame that gradually intensified as he was filled and poked and prodded. The crazy, wicked shock went right to the gut, and in an instant, all that grim, fearful feeling was transformed into unbelievable pleasure. He knew that if he were to perform anal sex on Dee, she would feel differently than he had felt when he had been anally penetrated himself, and yet, the common feature of both was an almost perverse lust.

Suddenly Veda asked him, “Are we going to start punishing her?”

After a moment’s pause, his voice returned to an airy, “I think it’s okay to start,” he said, knowing he had calmed down. “I think, Di, it’s a matter of principle …… don’t you?”

Deanna was startled to hear someone else calling her name. After this orgasm and humiliation, she had almost forgotten who she was. A person, a woman, and someone else was asking her if she was willing to accept the pain of a physical flogging. But it was unthinkable that she had a choice.

But she yelled, “Come on, I’m all set,” not allowing herself the chance to hesitate. She could take it. After what she’d just been through, she wasn’t going to shy away from anything.

“Good girl,” Jack’s voice was like a gentle breeze. Deanna knew he was behind her, and then stepping as far as she could see, Deanna saw that he was still nearly naked, his tight pants bulging, his genitals erect again, and white traces of dried semen between his thighs.

“Over to you”, he said to Vida, before walking over to Deanna and coming close to her cheeks, the strong scent of his perfume constantly emanating.

“It’s my pleasure,” Vida’s voice was rather soft, “Bentley, I’m going to start now.”

Deanna had almost partially forgotten the maid’s existence, and she wondered what Bentley even thought of all that was going on in front of her. Perhaps it was very sparse. The specially equipped house for sex showed that Veda was happy with the stuff. And Jack Diggle was not her only friend. Diggle wasn’t her only guest.

Strangely, the thought cheered Deanna. Jack and Vida’s relationship was seen to be close; but if Vida had other lovers, then Jack was not the one for her. In that case, there could be other women in his life, women who weren’t just temporary playthings, women who were worthy of his love. The kind of woman who can listen to him, whether he wants you in pain or pleasure.

Deanna’s musings were interrupted as a pair of female hands were gripping her ass.

Vida was appraising it, her voice without a trace of emotion, very professional: “She’s tight, very firm”, she said, squeezing a little. “Very nice complexion, easily reddened and swollen, and she’s very sensitive, so I’ll have to be a little more judicious in the force of my hand.” Then she slid her finger down between Deanna’s anal slit, teasing her vagina a bit, but not touching her clit. “My dear Cazito, I really love this so much, there simply couldn’t be a better gift than this.” Her fingers lingered in her vagina a little longer, after which, she stopped stroking her.

“Bentley, bring the board that Di is going to use,” Vida called to the maid, and Jack made way for Bentley to bring the strange object before Deanna’s eyes, who looked at it with horror in her eyes.

She had practiced pool as a child, and was quite a player; she and her sister Delia had played in many tournaments with rackets similar to the one Bentley was now holding, and although Vida called it a “board,” it was in fact made of black bourgogne, and not one of those innocuous rubber-padded wooden boards, yet it looked like a Pool Pool Racket.

“Let her kiss it”, Vida’s voice was very flat, as if giving deeper meaning to the role she herself was playing, while all the fun of the process was removed, leaving only this female abuser standing behind her. And as Deanna kissed the leathery surface, she couldn’t help but wonder in her mind just how many people had kissed it too …… felt it singing between many pale women’s buttocks for the stubborn pleasure of reaching its owner.

“Do you want her gagged, Monarch”, Vida asked, deeming the implement that was to be used for whipping. Within moments, Deanna heard it dancing and swooshing through the air, not far from her ass. Deanna knew the tyrantess was calculating the force and speed with which she was going to strike.

“No, not yet.” Jack’s voice was full of excitement. And in Deanna’s mind, she was anticipating her own trembling, and the pain that was to come, when she found herself imagining a very absurd picture. She saw Jack handcuffed to this same rack, his firm buttocks shaking just as she was, and his erection like a rod of arousal.

It was nothing more than Deanna’s imagination, yet she believed her sixth sense to be accurate. He had inflicted this game on others, and would surely try it himself-right now he was standing before her like a monarch-but at other times Jack must be willing to come and go through this torture just as he had inflicted it on others and viewed it.

“Very well, let’s get started!”

Before the words were out of her mouth, Deanna received the first whipping blow, which was so unusually painful that she couldn’t help but scream out in fear.

The blow was unimaginable and unbearable, beyond Deanna’s expectations. The blow took all the guts and courage she had had, and the half of her buttocks that had received the flogging seemed to be disintegrating, the tissues of her muscles seeming to disappear into a fiery, sharp pain after the blow. Only after the first blow, Deanna cried and wailed like a child, muttering something unknown.

She whimpered and clawed at the air in a death grip as the second stroke with more force landed on her ass again. “No, no!” She cried, the cork in her ass rocking violently as she was on the verge of losing control. She felt fiery objects churning inside her, pushing inward even more than the boundaries of what she could previously tolerate. All of her organs were boiling, her labia were swelling terribly, and her clitoris seemed to be engorged with blood as if it were several times larger than usual. Upon realizing that her bottom was oozing wetness again, Deanna felt humiliated and cried out again.

The pain was very deep and persistent, yet even more mortifying was the desperate need she felt to be touched. Her entire body crouched on the shelf, jerking violently, wanting to stroke her private parts.

“Touch me,” she cried out, and after two more strokes of the harder, faster whip followed, she screamed out wildly.

Deanna was in tears, and in the most helpless moment a hand was holding a scented handkerchief and wiping the tears from her face. Underneath all this raw, rough, intense pain, an angel had appeared to soothe her.

“Good girl, sweetheart”, a most loving, peaceful voice rang in Deanna’s ears as he tenderly stroked her face and hair with his cool fingers, soothing her lips. “Dee, hold on bravely for my sake,” and then, substituting his lips for his fingers, he kissed her as a priest preaching a holy sermon to a heathen.

As Vida continued to flog her, Jack kissed her, took her tongue and cradled her head in his arms.

Deanna cried out louder and louder, tears soaking her own and Jack’s cheeks, while Vida’s blows were still going strong, drawing out the desire within her body.

The pain was far more than Deanna had expected, and the feelings of frustration deepened. She was being tortured and the control of her body was gone, at the moment she would rather be whipped a thousand more times if only someone would touch her lower body.

Jack’s lips drew away from her mouth and began to kiss her sweat-stained face. She begged, “Put me down! Just touch me! Please!”

“Darling, no,” he spoke in a very quiet voice, as if he were speaking to an imbecile child, as he proceeded to lick at her ever-flowing tears. “You must be patient, trying to climax all the time will only add to the pain of the whipping, and that whipping is only a small part of the punishment you will receive.” When he finished speaking, he moved forward and played with her nipples, which were as hard as small stones, in his hands. Deanna couldn’t help but whimper again, and Jack put on a smile that looked like a saint’s smile. His slight tickling undoubtedly deepened the torment between her legs.

“Please …….” She pleaded through tears.

“No, Dee, you’ll have to be brave,” he said, still looking placid, and resumed kissing her again, kissing her face, her hair, and her lips.

And Veda began her task of exerting herself again, with every ounce of force and skill. Deanna felt that she was deep in a surreal, erotic world of staggering pain, torture, and unrelenting desire.

A strange, tugging force was building from three directions: the stimulation of the cork-filled cork, the hardness of her clitoral area, and Jack’s exhilarating kisses on her lips.

She had forgotten exactly how many lashes she had received and didn’t even realize it was over. All she felt was a kiss on her forehead before Jack moved his face away and walked away from her.

“Veda, you’re doing great,” Jack praised, and then Deanna suddenly realized that the two men and women behind her were staring at her hips.

“Kazdo, I will enjoy my reward now”, Vida’s tone audibly quivered a little.

“Of course! Where do you want to do it, honey?”

“In the recliner, oh my monarch …… I want her to watch us both do it.”

“Just as you wanted, but do you think she’ll last?”

“She can do it,” Veda’s tone was very sure. “This chick is tough as steel, and despite all the crying and screaming, she’s so much better than the others, Monarch, and you’ve picked the right one for tonight!”

Deanna felt at this point that she was beyond all this in front of her, separated by some distance. She felt like she was listening to a movie sermon, and when Bentley untied her, she turned around, expecting the scene in front of her to play out like a movie.

Her entire body was sore and numb, and she put her hands behind her back to relax. She felt a wave of nausea and dizziness as the plug was removed from her body. The feeling didn’t last long, though, and afterward, when Bentley helped her down so that she was lying prone on the soft cushions of the chair, she felt her entire body relax. Her eyes were closed and she lay still, her breathing still rapid. She listened to Bantree move softly, and she felt the pain in her ass seem to be fading as well.

And when Deanna opened her eyes again, she almost believed she was watching a movie.

A man and a woman-so beautiful in the flesh-were removing what little clothing they had on, and were kissing and caressing each other.

Strangely, Deanna didn’t feel jealous watching them make love. She felt vaguely grateful, and the sex seemed to be a treat they deserved. Deanna even felt honored to be able to watch the two of them make love, although their violent, twisting writhings depressed her a little.

As Deanna closed her eyes to rest, Vida had let down her curly red hair, which cascaded over the chaise like a band on fire, and which rippled as Jack went down on top of her. As Jack began to enter her, the authoress let out a long, unbridled chant, and it was obvious that after this whipping she was just as sexually aroused …… as Deanna had been.

Vida screamed harshly, arching her body to meet Jack’s jabs. There was no doubt that she was in the midst of a continuous orgasm, starting from the moment Jack entered her. And Jack was obviously very much up for it, his face contorted as he jerked his hips back and forth, riding his crotch of his lover, who was bellowing loudly, as they moved rhythmically, but also very roughly.

Aroused with lust but unable to be satisfied, Deanna dropped a tear as she watched the scene before her. But even in her low sobs, the artistic cells in her body were still active. She looked at the bodies twisted into a ball in front of her and longed to be able to draw them immediately – purely for her own satisfaction. She looked at these two men and women in the midst of violent coitus, sexually distended, and she wanted to leave behind this timeless image.

She suddenly thought that the painting could be sold to Jack. Deanna realized that she was actually able to think. She had been tortured, whipped, and filled with fear and alienation, but after all, she had also regained her clear mind.

The squirming didn’t last long for these two, and after another sharp moan, Jack ejaculated while Vida wiggled her limbs.

He whimpered too, like a very wounded bear, his ass twitching. Deanna’s tears flowed uncontrollably as she watched the two men shrivel up and soften as they climaxed, but the fire of lust inside Deanna burned even hotter.

As she leaned over to crouch on the chair cushion, a faint sound caught her attention and Deanna opened her eyes again.

Vida was so contented that she curled up in the chair, an unusually soft, innocent expression on her face, her beautiful eyes tightly closed. At the moment she was obviously very satisfied and unconscious …… But the man who had just made love to her was not.

Jack was crouching, his whole body trembling, his face pale, both eyes a little dim from over-exertion; still, he came slowly toward the cushion on which Deanna lay. He knelt down behind her, and embraced her body closely from behind.

“Dear and brave Di,” he rubbed behind her ear, holding her close.

Deanna sobbed softly, with mixed emotions. And his long, wet bottom began to stir between the backs of her legs again, the thick curls of body hair stinging her freshly whipped ass. As he went to rock her with his sweaty, flat stomach, she fiercely ran her fingers over every inch of muscle behind her.

When Deanna touched him, she felt as if her pain was fading, fading, and had even been almost forgotten.

All of Deanna’s bitterness and detachment disappeared as his long, elastic fingers traveled along her lower abdomen and down to her groin.

And she couldn’t help but whimper when one of his fingers stabbed inward, entered, and stroked her.

She wept, her clitoris long since swollen like a bud, while her private parts, her body and mind, gradually dissolved and dissolved into white, joyful balls of color …….

chapter xi – the bath

Did men’s semen have any special nourishing properties? Delia wondered, taking a sip of her morning coffee.

She was rich in whimsy and candor, and she knew it herself, but the thick, oozing juices made her think of something rather different …… but all in all pleasing thoughts.

A man’s semen during an orgasm.

Last night she had the upper hand, she thought to herself, and smiled triumphantly at this victory she had never had.

The juice was like a god’s agape, and Delia thought back to how she had sucked from Peter’s long jerks. She was almost sure that it must have been last night’s cum that made her feel especially good this morning. It was so exciting, wonderful, an eventful, frantic eruption.

What surprised her was how bland the taste of a man’s cock was. She licked her glossy lips and imagined a salty flavor. Salty was her first instinct as she sucked on it, with a hint of bitterness. But it wasn’t its flavor that was memorable, it was the man.

In any case, after she said goodbye to Peter last night, she slept as well as she had ever slept in her life. She didn’t toss and turn because she promised Peter she’d talk about the “next step” for each other, and she didn’t even hear Deanna come back – almost in the early hours of the morning.

Deanna ……. She thought of something else.

Before she came to the office in the morning, she peered at her sister and realized that she slept as well as she did, and that she was even more asleep, as if she were dead. She scrutinized her sister’s face in her slumber and noticed that the corners of her mouth were slightly smiling and her face was as peaceful as an angel’s.

Deanna seemed just as cheerful as she was last night, so there was nothing for her to worry about, though she couldn’t help but speculate on what exactly Diggle had done to make her sister seem so content …….

Is he still that good? Delia thought as she sat down at the table and fell into a deeper daydream. What kind of crazy sex was it that required that kind of corset? And had Deanna gotten herself into trouble for wearing extra bottoms?

“We should have a nice chat, dear”, Delia muttered to herself over her coffee cup. Suddenly, she felt that Deanna must have experienced something very special last night, and she needed to know before “Di” met Jack.

So whose turn is it tonight?

Delia was so caught up in over-imagination that her stomach twisted. It was strange. One had only just dumped Russell and then now seemed to be intimate with Peter, but still couldn’t help thinking about Jack. He made her body feel like it was on fire, blood and hormones spurting faster. Compared to the sex she’d tried before, she liked Jack’s kind.

The man is quite dangerous, he excels at manipulation and is a pervert. Yet there was just something about him that was so deadly attractive that even just the thought of him stirred up lust.

Delia was lost in her longing for him, and her mind went to Jack’s figure: glowing copper-colored skin, and his long, firm, smooth limbs. Imagining his entrance, that hard, thick cock, his sensual fingers slipping over every inch of her skin as she made love, reaching for the mind-blowing ……, Delia’s body couldn’t help but ripple at the thought.

She was still lost in her thoughts and felt disturbed when the process paperwork from within the company reached her desk. She actually liked her position and her job, but today she was not excited about it.

Underneath a whole stack of papers and memos, she found a fax, and just as she was about to throw the piece of paper into the folder, the signature on it froze her for half a second, and then her heart, her body …… fluttered.

“To Delia Ferraro. Ferraro: After reading your dossier, I realize that there are some matters that require urgent consultation. I am working at home today, so please come at your earliest convenience.”

There are no words of intimacy or hubbub on this fax, just a clear, short signature: Jackson K. Kay. Jackson K. Kay. Diggle.

Delia sulked in the elevator: what the hell was this jerk Jack playing at? And this annoying elevator seemed to stop on every floor, why couldn’t it go faster?

Exiting the hallway, her anger eased a little. She knew she couldn’t show anger in this game, not without concern for herself and her sister …….

The game might be almost over, or so she thought when she saw Fago waiting by the side of the road. The back door of the car was already open and the engine was left running, ready to hit the road.

Unprepared and unaware of her sister Deanna’s condition last night, Delia was about to go face her impending comeuppance and felt that this game they were playing was drawing to a close …….

It would have been nice if the roles of the two had been reversed, then Deanna would have been able to cope without worrying, but Delia knew there was nothing she could do.

She had been used to being a frank person, and now that she was about to be confronted with an embarrassing and miserable scene, there was no way for her to make up for anything else, and she would have to confess everything when the time came.

Alf greeted her graciously at the deep blue front door, and there was no indication in the elaborate and elegant Japanese etiquette that they had ever exchanged warm caresses.

“Jack’s in the bathroom,” she said as she led Delia through the hall and up the stairs. “He wants you to join him.”

It’s ridiculous, reading the dossier in a place like this.

Climbing to the top of the stairs, they headed towards the other end, in a different direction than Delia had set out on her last visit. With a sweet smile and a gesture, Alf led her to a bathroom that was more spacious and luxurious than the one she had visited last time. The fixtures were ornate, the ceilings were high, the whole room was painted royal blue, and in the center stood a large, luxurious bath with blue water gushing out while Jack sat in it.

“That’s fine, Alf,” he dismissed the maid, “I think Di and myself will do just fine.”

With a sweet, inscrutable smile, Alf bowed softly and retreated, leaving Jack and Delia behind.

“I didn’t see any dossier,” Delia said offhandedly, and in her mind she was calculating whether to tell everything and leave immediately, or whether to see it through and play along first.

“I was joking,” he explained easily. He sat up slightly, revealing a firm, moist chest. His hair cascaded down over his broad shoulder blades, and a handful of strands clung to his cheek. “Come down and soak with me,” he called to her as he stirred the bubbles. “It’ll make you feel looser, you seem a little tense.” He squared his shoulders, “I didn’t expect you to be in a bad mood today, Di. After being with Veda anything should be very nice …… You should be very quick. That’s how I feel.”

Delia stared at him blankly, remembering the smiling face of her sleeping sister …… and all the rumors about Vida… Mistral’s rumors. Geez! What the hell had happened last night?

“I’m fine”, she replied vaguely, “In fact I feel fine, just something at work, something trivial, it doesn’t matter.”

“What was it and how was it handled”, Jack asked businesslike, as if to remind Delia that she didn’t have to babble on about trivialities that weren’t even there in front of her superior.

“Jack, thank you, but I’ll take care of it myself, it’s my duty”, she replied coldly, pacing uneasily, and unable to resist keeping her eyes on his vaguely emerging, copper-colored form in the water.

“I think you will,” he replied mildly, but suddenly his tone became exuberant and melodramatic: “Take off your clothes and let your lovely body soak in the water.”

Delia shuddered a little. The flowing water, and the man inside it looked so tantalizing. She couldn’t help but become supple, completely different from her old self, and with growing arousal, began to undress her, one by one.

He gave her a death stare, and that didn’t surprise her, but when the dress came off down to just her underwear and bottoms, Jack suddenly jumped out of the way, and Delia was stunned when he grabbed her hips and pressed his wet face against her waist. His fingers tightened their grip on the ass wrapped in cotton while hungrily taking possession.

For several moments, he kept mooching with his hand, kissing her, licking her. His touch took on a distinctly examining nature, as if he were looking for something different or changed. He moved as if he were treating a female animal he was about to buy, with rough, savage – but also, to her surprise – unusually provocative movements.

She began to murmur softly, her hips inclined toward him gripping his smooth shoulders.

“That’s right!”

Jack’s voice was laced with a sense of triumph as his hands pressed against her. He stopped teasing and smoothly pulled Delia into the pool to sit against him, chagrined that her underwear was twisted in the water and her hair was ruined, but Jack ignored her protests. He moved her body and kissed her heavily, his tongue probing roughly. The kiss was unusually savage, his lips writhing hard, like an animal in heat, and Delia found his hands moving expertly behind her head, loosening the knots in her hair and letting her long locks fall over her shoulders.

He pressed his lips against Delia’s and murmured, “Wonderful,” rubbing the curly ends of her hair and fingering it. Then he put his hands back in the water, twisted her hips, and went to work touching her torso inside her underwear.

The way he treated her was direct and incendiary. Squeezing her breasts like prunes and pinching her nipples until Delia began to moan and struggle. When she broke away and made to kick him, he embraced her hips tightly again.

“It’s going to hurt isn’t it,” he asked with a gasp, his fingers diving into the thin slit in his ass.

“Will,” she answered frankly, wondering why he was so rude and pushy, and wondering why she was so easily provoked.

“How much does it hurt?” He continued to ask, keeping pinching her bottom as the crepe shrank together.

Then he mollycoddled her with abandon, one hand close to her hip and the other massaging her private parts through those silky panties. Constantly teasing her lower body, caressing the sensitive clitoris with abandon. It was all so lewd and teasingly slutty that Delia couldn’t help but twitch and shudder.

“Oh …… please,” Delia begged. And Jack was literally abusing her, lewdly rummaging through the most private parts of her body, which were on the verge of orgasm at this point.

“Do you want an orgasm,” he said, coercion contained in his voice, then abruptly retracted his hand again, sitting her ass back on the chair tiles at the bottom of the tub. She felt thwarted, while Jack grinned.

Delia let her longing take over and moved towards him, her body was looking for what it craved. But Jack purposely avoided it, still smiling; and suddenly an idea came to Delia’s mind that this might be the beginning of the end of their relationship. The time for revenge had come, the game was about to end.

Just now, just as they were kissing furiously and caressing intimately, she had almost forgotten that she must pretend, but now she realized it again. She ventured to look up into Jack’s eyes, but found she could not look straight into them. There lurked two secret blue lakes …… that were very empty to her, nothing but sex.

Unpredictable, pleasurable and arousing sex.

Sex was everything to Jack Diggle, it was his only way of communicating, regardless of whether the other person was friend or foe, subordinate or lover. She couldn’t help but also wonder a little if his billions of dollars in assets were also acquired on the basis of sex?

In what way, she couldn’t imagine, but her sixth sense told her intuitively that it couldn’t be wrong.

But this brief moment of rational thought did not relieve her of the physical urges she now felt, and she began to squirm in the water, her body rocking with the thirst of desire.

“If you’re going to have an orgasm, you need to do something about it,” he suggested as he stared at her. With that, he slid back into the water, the pool no longer rocking, his chin resting against the surface.

“I’m not sure I can”, Delia replied, her voice lowered, hoping that Jack hadn’t heard her over the surge of the pool water. Oh! God, if only Delia knew what had happened last night: had her sister done what he had asked of her …….

Delia had gotten used to masturbating and was able to be self-sufficient. She secretly felt proud to be able to please herself so well – with just her hands and body. No bystanders, no one watching. No Jack Diggle, who was like a pair of sharp eyes. At this point, though, he seemed to realize that she was two-faced.

“Babe, don’t be so quick to admit defeat,” he chided mildly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s easy, want me to show you?”

He looked down at the slightly bluish water, and Delia followed his line of sight to see his slender hand gripping the firm groin area. “Physiologically different, of course, but generally much the same.”

It was blushingly exhilarating. Her lover – or should I say one of her lovers – was teaching her to masturbate. She didn’t need to pay tuition, the sight seemed to have been seen …… before, and there was an intimidating beauty in Jack’s appearance that only fools and people whose constraints were passing their heads would not want to see.

“I …… might be able to,” she whispered, looking under the water. Jack’s straightening sex was vaguely visible, bobbing slightly in the water. Hers, on the other hand, was still in a state of calm, encased in thin cotton bottoms. Her hand passed through the floating surge of bubbles and began to reach for that private part.

“No, wait, I changed my mind.”

Delia stared at him intently. What the hell was he up to? If he had figured out their game, why didn’t he reveal it right away, and then taunt and toy with her like this? He had “changed his mind”, but her body had not. She realized that her sweat glands were working fast, her nipples were hard as small stones, and her lower parts were already moist. The body craved touch, whether by itself or by him, and how frustrating it would be for desire to be doused at the outset. But perhaps that was what he was doing on purpose?

There were steps on the other side of the pool and Jack moved over. “Let’s do something else,” he said and climbed out of the pool, a steady stream of water dripping from the firm parts of his body. He grabbed the towel on the rack quite handily and roughly wiped his ass, stomach, and reddened bottom.

He draped the towel over his shoulders, still wet and slippery, and walked over to Delia with his bare bottom half.

He urged, “Come on, Dee, climb up.”

Then, long before Delia could protest, or ask questions, he effortlessly grabbed her arms and pulled her up. Somewhat confused, Delia found herself standing at the edge of the pool, wondering why she was here.

In a matter of seconds a soft towel was over her and she was vigorously wiped down before Jack had her stand up straight and very deftly and embarrassingly undid her underwear and bottoms. He didn’t stare at her slippery body, he just ran his hands through her wet curly hair and patted her face with a towel and lotion to remove the smeared makeup.

“Hmm! Much better,” seeming very pleased with what he was doing. As he said it, he moved, his relaxed look making him seem indifferent to the naked woman in front of him …… But his cock underneath was just the opposite.

He was fully erect, solidly red and swollen and sticking out, his glans slightly moist. He was already as aroused as the average man, but his face was as calm as a Zen master’s.

“Come with me, Di, let’s get something to drink, it’s time for a drink now”, he threw down the towel and reached for her.

She thought Jack might find a second robe or kimono or something to put over it, but they immediately stepped out onto the porch. Delia’s eyes stared hopelessly at his straight bottom, herself as naked and as sexually aroused as he was.

What surprised her most was that they continued, naked, down the stairs and into what looked like a living room, with French windows open to a very well-tended garden. She could even see Fagor there – in a short printed dingy cloth smock, not the usual suit-and-gown black – kneeling beside one of the flower beds, weeding vigorously.

“We’ll stay right here”, Jack led her to a brocade covered chair and practically pressed her into it. “The sun is high and I don’t want your lovely skin to get sunburned”, he said as he slowly slid his fingers over her bare, swollen breasts and she couldn’t help but shiver. As he walked away to his own seat Delia marveled at the fact that he had a beautifully shaped, tight and Athenian ass.

Delia didn’t see Jack press any buttons or hear any bells, yet a moment later Alf walked in, silver tray in hand. She smiled at Delia politely her as if she was used to seeing naked women sitting on couches. Maybe she was often like that herself!

“Gin and gin?” She asked Delia, setting her plate down on the coffee table and picking up a thin-necked bottle that held the liquor.

“Oh, yes, please give me a drink!”

The sweet intensity of alcohol was just what was needed at this point. The wine was served, and it was mixed just right: just as strong and intense as she and Deanna both drank when they were in a bad mood.

Delia downed a third of it in one gulp, and Jack was staring at her, making her a little flustered.

“It looks as if you need the wine,” he took a small, slow sip, as if in question, increasing the pressure on Delia to be honest with him and take the consequences. “Is there something you want to tell me?” He asked gently, setting his glass aside and standing up. And that’s when Alf grabbed a robe from somewhere to give to Jack, a robe that wasn’t a silky thin kimono like the one from the other night, but a simple silver-gray cotton robe in a simple style, but sensational all the same. Jack held out his arms to let it slip over his shoulders, not creasing it at all. Delia was glad that she would have something to cover herself with as well, but in truth there was none. Elf returned to the chair in the corner of the room, her smooth face devoid of expression.

Surely now was the time to confess everything, to tell him about the twins and about the game …… But before she could say anything, Jack suddenly looked the other way. He moved over to her side and looked at something that was resting on the table next to her.

Delia hadn’t paid much attention to the table, and certainly hadn’t seen what was set on it. But now that she was at eye level with Jack …… felt goosebumps rise on her bare skin.

In fact, all she saw was something very ordinary, a stack of A3 drawings and pencils. The kind of pencils she’d always seen at home: either lying around on the drawings, or in the pages of a book, or next to a rocking chair, and she’d even seen someone stirring coffee with one.

“I was thinking I thought I heard you talk about being an artist”, his low, deep voice was magnetic, “Dee, I want you to draw me now, right now.” He paused for a moment, adjusting his emotions, then walked over to an ornately decorated bench and lay down. His legs were stretched out and crossed, while the sex in his leg ask seemed redder and harder.

“OK, I’m ready,” he urged with a smile.

Oh, my God! Go to hell! That sucks! Now I really want to find a place to escape ……

Delia and her sister were born only fifteen minutes apart from each other, and she knew there had to be another comet next to this twin star, which was the reason she used to explain the different talents of the two gifted sisters. If Deanna was given some paper and a pen, like the ones now on the table, it wouldn’t take long for a perfect sketch to be completed, whether it was of a sexy naked man or just about anyone.

But faced with the same paper and pen, Delia hated Ben’s inability to help. She can write a thorough and concise business report, make a delicious cheese soufflé, and even mix it with a fine cocktail. She can fix an electrical outlet in less than two minutes, and she sings superbly, and has even considered taking a singing career …… But she just can’t draw, and can’t save herself in this moment.

This was not a life or death situation, but her hands shook …… terribly as she reached for the pen.

This man was truly vicious, torturing her like this. He knew the truth but was deliberately screwing her over slowly like this, he couldn’t help but have this kind of fun.

“Dee, how’s it going?” Jack put his hand on the lower: mohawked, enhancing her attention. “I’d like to hang the painting here,” he said, gesturing with his other hand at the house, which he didn’t consider his home, though he seemed to like it very much. “Or hang it at my place in Geneva, I’m sure it will be a prized part of my collection no matter how you paint it.”

He wanted a painting, but Delia’s beautiful, fearful face simply looked like a painting, too. Her body too.

Both contain stories.

Her look implied understanding, defiance, and confused sexual excitement. Her body, on the other hand, clearly showed desire. Her lower body was already red with arousal and her nipples were hard ……. And so was his, boiling with desire as he stared at Delia’s body. He wanted another woman here, too – just as tantalizing – and the thought of it made him long for an orgasm.

The Ferraro twins, doubly beautiful, both intelligent and fiery. Almost every part of them was interchangeable – even the marvelous body heat – but with entirely different charms. He loved them and wanted to be loved by both of them. He wanted to take possession of their long, slender bodies, to be entwined with him. Though his instincts for eroticism were sharp, he was a little worried that they might find this three-way game uninteresting. They just wanted to play their own games, taking turns enjoying him …… There was no desire to kiss him, suck him, or caress him in front of either of the sisters. No.

What he dreamed would never happen was never even mentioned in the beginning.

But it was also really interesting to be with these two women who looked so similar, for him and for them. As he watched the woman in front of him, called Delia, blushing and her hand shaking with the pen, he thought that if it was with Deanna, then he would have the chance to play something else, something more exciting …….

“I don’t know how to draw,” Delia said, dropping her pen.

“But didn’t you tell me at the gallery that you were an artist?” His firm mouth twisted like Satan’s in a sneer, “I’m not so repulsive that I’d disable your ability to paint, am I?” He said, twisting his limbs again, that made him look even more lewd. His hands followed his performance rubbing his lower body, making it bigger and harder.

He was really moving, Delia thought so, wishing it wasn’t so complicated between them, that there were no games. She just had to walk up to him and cater to his with her hot body. She also wished she could paint, there was nothing more worth recording than the sight before her …….

“I was born without that talent” she said in a low, somewhat nervous voice, wishing that Jack hadn’t heard her, that the abomination wasn’t so strong.

“What? Say it again.” That evil grin deepened. And Delia caught a glimpse of Alf out of the corner of her eye and leaned forward slightly.

“I can’t draw, never could! And I never told you I could!”

This time he didn’t speak; Delia saw him raise about two long eyebrows out of confusion.

“That’s my sister you saw in the gallery, Deanna B. Ferraro. The two of us are altered sisters, Deanna and Delia ……. Are you satisfied now?”

“Not exactly,” he murmured, his hand still on his crotch. It was fully erect, hard and a little purple, open at the tiny hole at the tip and oozing juice. No, he wasn’t satisfied yet, but it was close …….

“Do you want to ask something else?” She asked. Jack’s calmness was anxiety-inducing, his fingers still sliding slowly, embarrassing and confusing.

“No, I want ‘you’ to tell me.” He squirmed slightly on the couch, his hand reaching down to tweak his scrotum. “Go on, Delia, say more.” He was concentrating on what he was doing, his head back against the cushions, his eyes tightly closed, his mouth a little twisted, the curve of his neck protruding clearly.

Delia was having a really hard time explaining clearly that the man in front of her was masturbating, and she was having trouble articulating anything she said clearly. She had really surprised herself with her own sexual candor, but she was still in a stuttering, cringing situation – she couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to the self who had always been decisive and clear in her business presentations at the company.

Often she was silent, especially when Jack started moaning, or arching his back in exuberance. He seemed to be very good at this aspect of pleasuring himself, sometimes even overplaying his hand. At the moment he was on the verge of climaxing, cumming, and screaming, but whenever she looked at him with her mouth wide open, he’d loosen up in the nick of time, slowing down his hand moxa, and taking deep breaths to loosen himself up.

“Are you even listening?” She snapped, as Jack seemed indifferent to the fact that she was recounting the breakup with Russell.

Jack’s eyes widened, blue and sparkling as he gazed at her. “Of course I have,” he replied calmly, repeating verbatim the one time Delia and Russell had broken up and had sex, much to her considerable embarrassment – and his hips moved slightly as his repeated it.

“Babe, go on,” he had finished flirting, “finish your story: how much longer can you guys get away with this.”

“There’s not much left to tell, and I …… well, I saw Peter last night, too, but nothing much. Deanna was still asleep before I went out this morning, but I saw her smiling and so-“, she gave Jack an inquiring look, “so find think she must have had a good time with you last night.”

“You could say that”, he smiled slowly, then before Delia could answer and figure out what was going on, he squeezed his cock hard a couple of times, and then his cum shot out, scattering in the air in a parabolic direction before spraying all over his body.

“I doubt ‘happy’ is the right adjective though”, he assumed soberly, as he finished ejaculating, the white runny fluid dribbling bucket-loads down onto the small of his back. Delia watched in fascination as he spread his cum like a lotion over his skin.

“But you can ask her yourself if you’re curious.” He paused for a moment, glancing at the hour clock that sat on the mantelpiece. “She could be here any minute.”

He rested his leg on the couch and swung it around, standing up afterward, his cock bobbing as he walked around with white traces of cum still on it. “So if you want to enjoy an orgasm before she gets here, you’d better do it now, don’t you think?” He leaned closer to her, his smile soft but mocking, his thin robe hanging down the sides of his body, covering nothing. “I can help you with that if you want.”

He was right. After what she had witnessed him do, Delia really needed to have an orgasm. How she did it she didn’t care. Her own, or his fingers would do, or even the skillful Elf’s would not matter, and Elf sat there quietly, understanding everything.

As these thoughts turned in her mind, Delia also realized the complex ingredients …… contained in the words that Jack had just spoken.

He was right again. She was not wanting Deanna to see her own virtue-whether it was with her own hands or Jack’s.

She and her sister were very close. The two often talked frankly about various aspects of each other’s respective sex lives. They had also seen each other naked or semi-naked at home.

But their constant and unspoken argument is anything to do with “threesomes”. The two of them and the man in the middle. Over the past few days, they’d been very horny and excited to play the “Twins Game”, but never, not once, had they made love to the same man at the same time.

The sisters have long known this desire to kill two birds with one stone from the eyes of the men they’ve dated, and now it’s in Jack’s heart as well. But what sets Jack apart from other men is that he seems to have insight into her thoughts. Understanding that what he wanted could not possibly be realized …… ever. Delia couldn’t help but admire his insight.

“Delia?” He called softly to her, squatting down in front of her and playing with the useless pencil inside her hand. “Do you want me to help you, or do you want to do it yourself? I think you owe me a favor for lying to me like that.”

Delia nodded, agreeing with him. She had almost masturbated earlier in the bath, so why not start now? She and Deanna had set out to tease him, so she owed him, owed him what he wanted, and now it was time to pay him back.

She was as civil as she could be, spreading her legs wide to show him that pink bottom, combing her fingers through the body hair to give him a good look.

Her private parts became burning with the stroking, never having experienced such burning before, her special body heat boiling under Jack’s azure gaze. Then she began to stroke the sensitive areas around it, then the clitoris, and the tiny opening below it, at which point Jack encouraged her. Delia was caught between two emotions, the desire to orgasm, and to please Jack. She had always been a perfectionist, so she did her best at both; she slid one finger of her left hand into her cunt, while the other tickled her itchy clit.

Exuberance spurred her on when she caressed herself for the first time. She craved an orgasm, but it was for Jack. She clutched her lower parts, desperately trying to control the spasms that had begun, the urge to prolong it inside her, the deeper the fingers placed on her lower parts sank. Fueled by the tension between her legs, her hips lived up. Her heels rested against the carpet. And Delia couldn’t help but cry out when another pair of hands reached into her crotch as well.

One palm reached over to support her buttocks, yet the fingers of the other hand dived to her anus, as if to pierce it, resting in a position balanced against the fingers in her vagina.

“Oh, no,” she hissed out when she realized what she was in for. Her bodily fluids had spilled over, and that wetness made it easier for Jack to move. His reach was gentle, but not resting, and he flexed his nimble wrist to follow that wetness, sliding his fingers smoothly into where he wanted them.

The sensation of being filled was marvelous and appalling, and Delia squirmed and resisted violently. Her clitoris swelled due to her sheer desire. It continued to hump harder and harder, and then, as the arousal reached its peak and her fingers were pressed hard against her privates, Delia screamed out, moaned, and convulsed. She felt Jack closing in on her, his tongue over her navel, leaving a perfect imprint of Delia’s orgasm.

Just as Delia was in the throes of ecstasy, she felt a strange touch – it was Jack’s soft hair spread over the top of her slightly heated abdomen, cold, like silk …….

Chapter XII. Proposals

“It won’t scar her ……”

Yes, Deanna thought while carefully working on her attire, but why didn’t she say it still hurt? Bitch!

Deanna mostly wore jeans to work and sometimes rode her bike, but this morning it was neither. She had tried to wear jeans but had to give up, the rough, hard material was killing her ass.

She wasn’t surprised by her fine skin, but the burning sensation of the lash still vaguely stirred her arousal to this day, which was incredible. She was standing now, drinking her coffee, which was safer. The morning shower was slow and difficult, as it was necessary to avoid washing into sore spots. As the water continued to drench her body, over and over again, her mind filled with visions. Vida and Jack. The whipping, the tight corset, the rack ……. And the, unbelievable pleasure that came from being whipped.

The only thing she could wear was a lacy dress of light silk, though it tingled a bit as she wore it. The dress had four hems and was a dark purple color, though Deanna knew the sunlight could shine through. If one looked closely, one could easily see the curves of her body, even the outline of her crotch area, if the person looking hadn’t already noticed the, almost pristine, breasts within her thin t-shirt.

Putting down her coffee cup, Deanna could not, for almost the millionth time, stand the urge that she had been unable to resist since she woke up. She put her hands behind her back, gripped her hips, and whimpered.

Oh! Oh, my God! Why is this horrible thing so great? Why was one’s lust greater than the pain? To be whipped, to be naked, to have one’s entire body abused, manipulated, teased. The thought was heartbreaking. One’s own will was sapped by asking to be punished. But if Jack walked in right now, she would meet him instantly and completely, wet for him, ready for his whipping moss, or his cock.

She told herself, Deanna, you’re in big trouble. Not only is this game of twins no longer a game, but it is also making you lose interest in other men. She would no longer be satisfied with the mundane, boring pattern of sex that she had been accustomed to.

Throughout her adult life, Deanna had always thought of herself as bold and tricky. But now she realizes she’s still just a novice. Jack had toyed with her, manipulated her, embarrassed her, hurt her, and humiliated her. But these times were a glorious part of her life, like living on another level. It was a larger, more vivid existence that she had thought impossible.

The problem now was that she’d already had a taste of the new and wasn’t likely to go back.

She wanted very much to be “spontaneous,” and she felt that under ordinary circumstances she would not have hesitated to do what Jack said. But now there was another Delia to consider. Delia might want Jack too. Unlike her other sisters, Delia was a twin to her own flesh and blood.

You want him just for you don’t you? Deanna. She asked herself rhetorically. Having Jack with Vida was acceptable because they were so in tune with the man, almost a part of him. But Delia is different ……, she has the exact same face and personality as yourself, and she is your worst enemy, no matter how much you love her!

The only way to relieve that agony now was to think about last night. Deanna had a familial optimistic disposition, and although her hips were still aching and her mind was a thousand miles away, she couldn’t help but revel in last night’s pleasures without thinking about the complex consequences of how the whole thing might have developed.

What had happened at Vida’s, and the earlier encounter in the car, had been the most marvelous experience of her sex life, the ultimate in fantasy. Deanna ran her fingers over the aching muscles, and she couldn’t help but whimper, wanting to relive it again. As the visions took shape before her eyes and the muscles in her ass were stimulated, she felt her lower parts begin to moisten and swell. She stood along the edge of the table, resting her crotch against the rounded corner, trying to detach herself from the ever-present craving.

The memory seemed to be felt, seen, and heard. She remembered Jack’s deep, tender kisses as Veda worked the cork into her. She remembered his beautiful naked body as he made love to Veda, and the moans Jack made as she sucked him. All the ways she had been abused, mistreated, and sexed, and how much she herself had loved it all. Especially the sly observations that came to her as she was being tortured, knowing intuitively that Jack shared similar views to hers, and would have gladly enjoyed that whipping if given the chance, whether she did it or Veda. She might have to be better than Veda, and the thought made her feel horrible that she might be as seductive and subversive as the drug.

She was swinging herself against the corner of the table to grind herself and make it tremble. Bare feet and padded toes, she let her delicate flesh grind against the cool tiles.

She looked like just a woman standing in the kitchen, grinding herself, yet Deanna felt like an honored queen. Imagining herself whipping her lover’s ass, making him scream from pain and pleasure. Strangely enough, in her imagination, she was still wearing the same white corset as she had that night – but this time the dress represented power, not humility. She wore boots to go with it, and leather gloves. Her lower half was bare, waiting to be worshiped.

When she threw down her weapon, the thin leather whip, her captive magically felt soothed, then turned to her, his thin blue eyes filled with adoration. He crouched before her, submissive, with whip tattoos on his body, and opened his pink lips close to her lower body before beginning to lick it at her command.

The most ecstatic part of the whole fluttering fantasy was the pleasure triggered by Jack’s licking her. And indeed, her orgasm was making her dizzy. She improvised for stimulation at the table, squeezing the pain in her ass, and then cried out from the pleasure. She was still damp and red and swollen, and that’s when reality pulled her back.

Someone was ringing the doorbell dead on, continuously, and the sound was ear-piercing.

“Please!” She yelled, pulling her skirt down and running through the hallway to the door and her still aching hips.

The person who came was not the one Deanna had expected in her heart, it was the one who was expected secondarily.

Vida Mistral asked elegantly, “Am I disturbing you? Misty asked civilly, “Am I disturbing you?” Her sharp jeweled line eyes focused on Deanna’s slightly flushed skin. The telltale coloring on her chest and neck indicated that she had just had an orgasm.

“No. Oh, there! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Honey!” Veda said softly, sidling in and passing through the hallway toward the open door to the kitchen. Deanna, trembling with a mixture of anger and desire, grumbled after Veda.

“Dee, I thought we were friends”, the awesome tyrantess didn’t look quite the same this morning, cold and calm, not unlike Deanna, who now felt choked with heat and unsettled.

Vida was also the only person dressed in white attire this morning. She wore a loose white linen tunic that looked polished and cold like a prisoner’s, a white clown hat on her head, and a pair of white patent leather penny loafers on her feet. Her red hair was in a sensuous bun at the back of her head, and her ample breasts were covered with a red lace-encrusted undergarment with wire braces. But she seemed to have forgotten to put on a shirt.

“It is so to speak,” Deanna admitted. She remembered the helplessness and sweetness she had experienced at the mercy of this woman’s pale hands. “Still, I would like to know the purpose of your visit here today.”

“I came here for a proposition, an errand for someone else in the meantime, and Jack gave me the address”, Vida said succinctly, surveying this kitchen for a moment before walking over to the coffee pot. “Can I ……”, said the man, picking up a cup on the shelf and shaking the black liquid.

“Be my guest,” Deanna answered her.

Vida poured herself half a cup of coffee and downed it in one gulp. “Well …… this is the first cup this morning”, she whispered, “Now, let’s get down to business …… I’m going to start talking about my proposal. ” She sat her butt down on the high stool, “Jack told me you’re an artist, so I’m looking to hire you to illustrate my collection of novels, what do you think? I want to do a deluxe edition, and the book needs some simple, elegantly styled paintings, what do you think?”

This is a great opportunity, Deanna thought carefully for about thirty …… seconds.

But then her picky nature began to have a problem with the fact that she felt there was something wrong. “But neither Jack nor you have seen my work, so maybe the style isn’t right.”

“I don’t have to worry about that, Jack’s sixth sense is spot on, he’s probably already seen through you and knows your style of painting.” With an uneasy silence and conviction, Viren set down her glass and said, “Di, after last night, I ‘know’ you’ll understand what I need.”

Before Deanna could figure out what was going on, Vida had stood up and walked behind her, “The truth is that it’s not sweet and light stories I’m going to be working on, Dee”, she said softly behind Deanna, sliding her hands behind her back, “I want Jack to perform for real. ” Her strong, nimble fingers gripped Deanna’s flesh and pressed hard. Deanna couldn’t help but whimper, feeling her hips seem very hot, her pleasure far outweighing the pain.

Deanna seemed vaguely engaged and cognizant. Vida had flogged her last night, but also secretly felt that she and she were on a par, that the unseen tentacles of both sides had unfurled into each other, and that both would then be in a position of dominance, and that both were somewhat aware of it.

Deanna’s voice was a little husky as she asked Veda, “Who are you …… running errands for today?” She didn’t answer Vida’s earlier request, as the comparison wasn’t that important. She shuddered violently, showing the effects of Veda’s fingers, while Deanna’s own hand moved to her groin in an uncontrollable manner.

“Oh, easy, I’m here to take you to Jack’s.” Again, she deliberately pushed harder and harder, mooching Deanna’s hips.

Perhaps due to her environment, Deanna didn’t know much about cars and didn’t know how to drive. But she could see that Veda’s car was perfect for its owner, Italian in style, sleek and noble looking, with a fiery red body; as if to imply that a woman as sexy as Veda should be driving a car that vaguely hinted at phallic worship.

Veda was also a very masculine driver. The car was stuck in a traffic jam as it passed by the beach, so Veda tried desperately to maneuver through the tight spaces, while Deanna pressed herself against the back of her seat in a cold sweat. She was so skilled that she kept passing other cars, regardless of who else was just trying to get through, and her technique was like drawing a map on the road, which was probably an acceptable principle of civilized behavior.

The ride was like they were moving toward a man: fast, agile, and intimidating. It wasn’t until Deanna stepped onto the steps leading to the deep blue door that she learned that this game of twins had been played to the point of danger.

This is Jack’s home, and he’s supposed to be in it now. But it’s very possible for a man like him to still be busy keeping in high touch with his corporate kingdom when he’s not working. There was no way he hadn’t already spoken to Delia, who was in the company.

True, but if he had already contacted Delia, then why send Vida to her place? Deanna’s thoughts began to turn over, and she was even more perplexed when she saw Jack’s servant. The pretty, delicate Oriental girl greeted her with a smile that contained mischief and intimacy.

“He is waiting in the hall,” said this thin girl softly, and Deanna guessed she must be Alf.

“Thank you,” Deanna thanked nervously, then followed Vida through the elegant and luxurious corridors. If she hadn’t been visiting at a time like this, Deanna would have liked to take her time and browse the place, admiring Jack’s collection of artifacts. But at the moment all she could think about was the Twins’ game ……. When Vida gave her a wink and opened a large, gilded door, a bad thought flashed through Deanna’s mind: she thought the game was about to be over …….

Within seconds, she knew it was all coming to an end.

Two familiar people were sitting comfortably in comfortable, brocade upholstered chairs. One is naked, the other is clothed, and the two are sipping what looks like gin and tonic.

The first man was Jack, smiling, naked and moving, his eyes shining with a mixture of triumph and amusement. The other person was Delia, wearing a very beautiful silver-gray robe, her face red, her hair and dress a little disheveled, her expression showing as much wonder as Deanna’s.

“Hi!” She shrugged and raised her glass to Deanna.

“Oh! Shit!” She realized her fear now, and though everything was still inevitable, Deanna couldn’t resist.

“Deanna, have a drink!” Vida asked cheerfully, the bottle already in her hand.

“Okay,” Deanna answered her, feeling her mouth go a little dry. Let’s have a drink before we start ……

Deanna took the cold glass of wine, her sister and naked lover looking at her intently, and she suddenly remembered that Vida had just called her by her first name. How long ago had she known that? Deanna wanted to ask, but just then Jack rose from his seat and walked towards her, his erection not hindering him in the least.

“Deanna, welcome to my home,” he said as he walked toward her, his voice warm, almost benevolent. Then he leaned over and graciously kissed her on the cheek, Deanna felt his heat practically penetrate her. “Please come and sit over here …… I think we need to talk, don’t you?”

For the moment she became very pliable and allowed Jack to lead her to the chair beside Delia. He would smile heartily at Deanna, and could see that she was a little embarrassed; and when she took a large gulp of her wine with a jerk, she saw that her sister was looking at her curiously, and frowned a little, as if to ask, “What the hell is going on?”

Deanna opened her mouth to ask the naked man who was abusing her, “Since when do you know?” She had no desire to explain to her sister what the pain in her ass was all about.

Jack’s eyes were so turquoise blue. Like unusual beams of light ingested into her soul, quelling all doubt and discontent. “When I ran into you at the gallery the other night, I felt as if something wasn’t quite right there”, he began in no particular order, “You’re ravishing, I couldn’t resist, but you’re not quite like the you I know from the profile, in fact, other than your face, I’m almost not sure that standing in front of my eyes is you …….”

Delia suddenly cut in and asked, “What does it have to do with personal data? I’ve seen my own profile, but it’s just some general information and brief experiences. It won’t record matters about …… ‘personality traits’ at all. I only wrote that I had a sister, but didn’t specify that it was a twin.” At this point, Deanna glanced at her sister.

Jack smiled, “That I admit, I was just entertaining I …… should be able to say, so I decided to invite some interesting people to my exhibition, but the personnel information didn’t provide any information about that, so- -“, he tapped the bridge of his straight, elegant nose gently, “I’ll have to rely on some other leads.”

“And what did your so-called ‘other clues’ provide you with?” Deanna didn’t need her sister to tell her, she simply questioned.

“When I got home, I took another look at the information I’d ‘acquired'”, Jack continued nonchalantly, having startled the sisters by politely squeezing himself into the carpet of their chairs. He sat there, still naked, and continued with “his” story. “I found myself making love on the platform not to Delia Ferraro, but to her. It was her sister, the artist Deanna …….”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve already booked an appointment first, and I don’t want to be delayed by that and waste the entry roll.”

Deanna secretly marveled at her oldest sister, impressed with her sister’s calmness. Delia could be said to be unusually calm in dealing with such a scene. But …… what, Deanna thought, if it had been a scene like last night’s instead?

And that’s when Jack spread a wicked, moving smile, “I’d do it myself, if I had a twin brother too …….”

“Unimaginable,” Vida, sitting in the chair across from her, listened to it all and stated her feelings coldly.

Jack looked at her and asked, “Honey, I guess one Diggle is enough?”

“Too much is enough,” the authoress replied lazily, sipping the wine in her hand while smiling and surveying the two Miss Ferraro’s in front of her. The expression appeared affectionate and intent. And Deanna sensed that her sister was also agitated by the white-dressed woman.

“Kazidor, go on again! Do you know how interested I am in the details of it all.” Veda urged, taking off her hat and throwing it accurately across the room, dropping it on the table.

So Jack went on and began to recount how he had found himself involved with the sisters, and he still seemed interested as he did so. He loved their differences as well as their similarities, the kinky part of their personalities, and the interesting, different aspects of their similar beauty.

Jack recounted these things with particular interest, some of the differences between the two men not even conscious to them.

Both Delia and Deanna couldn’t help but blush as he unreservedly detailed those subtle traits, the differences in reactions among the sisters.

He concludes by saying, “You two are a beautiful contradiction, so alike, so wonderful, so titillating, and yet deep down you are not the same.”

The differences between the two sisters were obviously of considerable interest to Jack. From the beginning of his narrative, he had been unconsciously rubbing his cock so that it was now hard, red and swollen, and dripping slowly with silky fluid. Deanna couldn’t stop watching, and didn’t have to look at her sister, she knew Delia was just as …… interested.

“And ladies, now I have a proposition.” The tone of his voice was full of intimate longing, and even if he hadn’t yet spoken of his proposal, Deanna’s deep feminine instincts told her that Jack’s offer would be at least as irresistible as the Immortal’s.

Suddenly Delia stood up and smiled at everyone. Deanna had never seen her sister have that kind of guts before, Delia’s tone was very flat, “Sister, I heard that before you got here, and I think if you all don’t mind, I’m going to leave to get ready first.” She glanced at Jack as if inquiring and he nodded, impressed with her coldness.

And that’s when Vida stood up and came over and said, “I’m with you, I need to dress up too, come over here and massage me.”

The situation became awkward all of a sudden, and Deanna felt as if she had been cast aside. She looked at Delia eagerly and almost spilled …… the wine in her hand.

Delia turned as she reached the door, and as her eyes met Deanna’s, she winked at her sister as if to tell her, “It’s your turn!”

After they left, the door closed again. Deanna was taken aback; what was wrong with her unusually conventional, serious sister? She’d always felt bad about her sister’s sexual bravado, and had fun settling into that uninteresting sexual relationship with the staid Russell. Jack had nothing to thank them for, but he had been an influence on Delia, and he had given her a taste of innovative, different sexual pleasures.

But can she handle the wild Vida? This unorthodox, unusual, domineering bisexual has the potential to caress and seduce a woman, but is just as likely to whip her.

“Deanna, don’t worry,” Jack said, removing her glass of wine. His hand slowly dived between her thighs, creasing her silk dress as he wandered over her warm skin. “Delia will be fine, Vida knows the difference between you two, and she’ll abstain anyway …….”

After thinking about it, Deanna could imagine that despite knowing Vida’s kind of ritualized cruelty, she nevertheless had a warm and benevolent side. Like last night, she was gentle as an angel afterwards.

And Jack’s hand was now nearing the top between Deanna’s thighs, wandering and mooching.

Her voice was hoarse as she opened her mouth to ask, “What did you say you had to suggest?” She no longer actually cared about any conception or future. It was time to care about ……. She looked at Jack’s long, slender legs, sitting on the carpet like a yoga practitioner, while his cock stood out like a sword from below his waist.

“Quite simply, I want you, or Delia, to come and live with me at the Geneva residence.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack’s fingers slid in further. “That’s what I’m talking about, I want you to live with me, share my place, and my joy …….”

“You mean as your mistress, two mistresses?”

“If you want to call it that. I just want you to live in my house and wait on me whenever I want to have sex.”

“Both of us?”

“That’s right …… but not at the same time, and I don’t think you’d like that, would you?” His fingers had almost touched her pubic hair, flicking it.

“Jack, this is outrageous!”

“Why is that outrageous?” He continued to tweak her pussy lips with a puzzled look on his face. “It’s just an extension of the game we play, I own you and you own me …… just take turns going down without interruption …… don’t you like it?”

“But that means we’re kept women, just sex tools”, she could only whisper to him as his fingertips had raked through her pubic hair and rested on top of the red, swollen clitoris. Then she had been able to do nothing more than moan, unable to resist any longer. Jack’s caresses were very gentle, barely moving – but she was already on the verge of orgasm, wiggling. She began to squirm, then cried out from the pain that touched her buttocks.

Deanna felt the muscles swell hard and hot. A fire ignited in the subtle parts, the folds, and the slit, the slit that had been aroused with desire. Her lower body quivered, her head lost consciousness, and she cried out. She kept rubbing her hips hard against the chair, feeling the liquid inside her flow …… dripping onto his finger, which rested on her privates no matter how much she struggled.

“You’re so hot,” he gasped, his fingers pressing familiarly against her clit. “So wild, hot and wet …….” She felt Jack’s hands press firmly against her hips, gripping firmly, and then he could squeeze her, twist her, manipulate her.

Deanna screamed out, her pain and pleasure sandwiched together: the two forces boiling like deep, sweet sugar, raging in her lower belly. She mumbled unconsciously as if she were in a frenzy, all the while tearing at the silken skirt she wore – tearing it into thin pieces so she could caress her burning skin. Finally her hands were padded on her hips, restraining her red-hot, aching buttocks, and she was close to climaxing.

She felt every inch of trembling, the entire weight of her body falling equally on that finger and thumb of Jack’s. He was in complete control of her, like the sun was pulling on a thin rope, tightening its grip on her crotch and soul …….

“No, don’t!” Deanna hollered, her legs slapping dead center, no matter how tight Jack’s grip was. She couldn’t keep from writhing her hips, trying to reach an orgasm that her heart had longed for, something different. Her bodily fluids fountained down.

“Give it up! Stop struggling …….” He coaxed, his hand still moving, taunting her.

But after this almost near-edge-of-madness, blank pleasure, there was nothing. Deanna’s limbs were weak, her consciousness clouded as she leaned back in her chair and gasped for breath. She could barely think, but knew that Jack’s hands moved: first stroking her shoulders, caressing her hair, then her waist, her thighs, reassembling the skirt that had torn and fallen apart.

“I think you’re distracting me, aren’t you?” She finally opened her mouth, her voice weak. “You’re going to make me unconscious, and then I’ll agree to be your sex slave, or whatever …… you want.”

Her eyes were closed, her lids too heavy to open, but she felt Jack getting up and walking away.

“No, that’s not my modus operandi,” he said, walking back and placing a glass of wine, which was cold and icy, in Deanna’s hand. “But if it works, I’ll be happy to use it.”

“No, it won’t work!” She shot back, and it was as if Gin had regained her sanity. She opened her eyes and found Jack staring at her. He was sitting cross-legged on the carpet a few yards ahead, sipping his drink, his cock still erect.

“Jack, this is the twentieth century, we live in the midst of a fairly civilized society, you can’t just abduct women as wives like Arab sheikhs.”

“But Deanna, it’s not like I’m forcing you”, he had reason to reply, his blue eyes very calm.

“I’m just asking, asking you guys to come share my life for a while, for the sake of dating, and for sex.”

“I give up!” Deanna yelled out angrily, taking another hard gulp of wine. When the glass had reached the bottom, she staggered to her feet and walked to the other end of the hall to pour another glass. She wanted to get herself drunk like this, but the situation at hand was just about as surreal as it could get …….

She spoke again, her cup already filled again, “You say we can share your ‘life’, but what about our own? I know I’m not the type to do much, mostly because I’m so lazy. But Delia has a really great job! In your company! I can’t have her living like a slave girl, picking at her fingers all day in boredom, waiting for you to bring her joy.”

“True,” he explained to her, “but it’s not purely sexual, and my businesses in Switzerland can provide Delia with excellent career opportunities. She can actually hold the reins of power and not just run a bunch of secretaries busy preparing business documents.”

“She can do more,” protested Deanna, though she knew nothing of her sister’s daily routine.

Jack shrugged, “I know, I too thought she was capable of more than that.” His eyes leveled at her, “It’s the same with you, dear. You can be completely yourself in an isolated environment. It may surprise you to know that I’ve actually seen your work, and that’s when I thought your talent was a bit wasted. I want to take you to Geneva to train you, to organize exhibitions of your paintings, to bring you to the attention of connoisseurs.”

“What …… is it to be an artist, or a sexual center of attention?”

He smiled again. Very oddly, the little boy seemed to smile coyly.

“Either is fine, but mostly I stand by the artistic considerations.”

“Why us?” Delia pressed on in a different direction.

An interesting phenomenon arose that Deanna found new and exciting. The more aggressive she if seemed, the redder and harder Jack’s lower body looked. “Other than the fact that we’re twins, there’s nothing special between Delia and me. You could have found the woman you wanted anywhere, but why did you pick us?” She paused to change her breath. “And you don’t have to hope to enjoy three in the same bed! It’s not likely! Delia and I would hate it so much.”

He calmly replied back to her, “As long as one of you wants to be with me, I’ll be satisfied, both of you are sexy and wonderful, I really want one of you, or both, and I’m ready to give anything to have you. Now what else do you have to think about?”

There was a hint of anxiety in his voice – Jackson B. Diggle was a little frustrated, and feeling confused. Almost helpless. And Deanna’s arousal was rising fast, especially after noticing the change in his lower body. He looked like he was about to burst.

“I don’t understand”, Deanna continued, taking a more pretentious sip of her wine and licking the drops from the circumference of her lips. It was an old ploy, but Deanna didn’t think it would fail. She almost laughed aloud when Jack’s fiery gaze gazed at her lips. “If you want a woman to live with you and play those wacky games, why don’t you me Veda? She’s an expert at that. You don’t even need to train her.”

Jack smiled, though it soothed some of the tension, though his cock was still hard. He said, “I love Veda very much. In fact almost everyone who knows her does. But sadly, she is unlikely to live with anyone else. We tried it once, but in the end it turned out to be simply mutual torture.”

“Oh! So Delia and I are just your second best choices!”

“Deanna! That’s enough!” As he stood up, he spilled his wine, dripping it onto the expensive carpet. His blue eyes were like burning coals and his cock was as straight as a club. “Are you coming to Geneva with me or not?”

“I don’t know …… Maybe it will. I need time to think about it.”

He grumbled, “Okay, that’s fine, now I surrender!” As he moved toward her, his whole body felt like coiled sexual clockwork. “But if I give you the time you need, will you give me something now too?”

Deanna asked, deliberately slow, “Yes, what do you want?”

“You witch, let it be soothed!” He yelled out, picking up his cock with his fingers, almost touching her face.

“Of course,” Deanna replied softly.

Slowly and carefully placing the glass on the floor, she leaned forward with unusual gentleness and took his long, slippery cock in her mouth …….

Chapter 13 – Gemini’s Choice

After a week of hibernating and pondering, Delia still couldn’t make a decision.

She wondered if it might have been easier to make a decision if Jack had been by her side. Seeing his physical beauty might have warped Delia’s judgment, and her old-fashioned sense of duty would have vanished, making it quick and easy for her to say “yes.”

But the sisters hadn’t seen Jack since they left his house that morning. He’d said he wanted to leave them alone for a while to give them “space.” This period was supposed to be for thinking, but for Delia, it made things more problematic.

Deanna had made her decision, and she had made it quickly and told Delia as if in a dream. But she did not inform Jack until Delia had also made her decision.

Delia envied her sister’s decisiveness. Knowing what she wanted was so simple for Deanna, without having to think about it.

Aggressive and bold, maybe a little crazy too.

When they had a chance to sit down and discuss it, Deanna told her right away, “Delia, I’m going. I’m definitely going, whether you want me to or not. He is dangerous, arrogant, and tries to manipulate …… at every turn but he does things for me that are more than just sex. He made me feel energized …… excited. I can’t explain it intelligibly. I feel relieved to know it’s more than that.”

“Honey, are you really sure?” Delia asked her sister, knowing it was basically a self-question. Deanna had never backed down in her life, even when she knew it was wrong.

“Of course. But I haven’t told him yet, and I’m waiting for you to decide too.”

Deanna thought that there might be tears as well as embraces between the sisters when she thought of it, but often laughed it off, telling her sister, “At any rate, I shall no longer enjoy free lodgings and meals for nothing, and go to Jack’s to enjoy all the luxuries,” and grinning at Delia, “You’ll all have to ask me for the rent!”

Delia also taunted her by saying, “But you didn’t pay for most of it.” At that point she really wanted to blurt out, Unfortunately I’m going too: but she didn’t. Her cool head always told her, “Wait a minute ……!”

Right now she’s still thinking about how to make a decision.

Arriving at the office today, Delia found herself blankly, idly looking out the window. Unable to make decisions at work, too, while it seemed everyone was gawking at her curiously, like they knew something.

She didn’t open the files, she threw them into the already “full” file box, and finally she felt relieved when she decided something. She would take the afternoon off! Her “boss” couldn’t have fired her now, under the circumstances.

Back at her apartment, Delia unloaded the clothes she was wearing and put on the gray cotton robe she’d gotten back at Jack’s house. The smell that emanated from that robe made her dizzy and brought back certain memories. She lay down on the couch with a glass of wine beside her, and after taking a deep breath, she remembered …….

With Jack in the bath and what happens later, and after that, with Veda and Alf. Totally unpredictable and unusually moving. She shivered, thinking back to being with them, just as sexy with or without clothes on. Thinking of Veda’s long fingers, how bold they were, how almost impossible it was to resist them. And “this” meant something more complicated …….

“I’d be happier and wouldn’t have to drink so much if things were categorized clearly”, she muttered, taking a sip of her drink. She wanted to get drunk, but it seemed too early in the day, especially when it was still empty. She shook the golden liquid in her glass and thought about her predicament again.

The problem is that she likes her current life. Russell had been struck out, and there were so many friends in life for company, so many things she wanted to do and try ……. Suddenly being taken to Geneva for another exciting sexual life was certainly very tempting. If she were with Jack right now, and he asked her once more, she might say “yes” ……. But he wasn’t here now, and she had other options.

Jack is the most physically beautiful man she’s ever met. He’s so sexually potent that even when he looks at her for a moment, Delia can’t resist wanting him. In the midst of his bizarre behavior, Jack also has a benevolent side to him. He gave her plenty of pleasure, even courtesy of his job, but that wasn’t what she needed. A little confused, Delia took another sip of wine and leaned back on the couch, her eyes staring at the blank ceiling.

She stared at the ceiling and remembered a time when she had spent a peaceful night …… with one of its friends.

Peter.

There is another good reason to reject Jack at this point. Deanna didn’t have a “relationship” with anyone here, but she, Delia and Peter did. The shy boy was wonderful and talented. He was a slow, discreet, elegant lover with smart fingers and a long, thick cock. He’s probably at home right now, busy working on his computer network …….

Delia paused to tie the belt on her robe before heading for the back door and climbing the ladder outside that led upstairs.

And when Peter let her into the house, he nervously called out, “I …… can’t take it anymore.” His horn-pepper colored eyes behind his lenses were wide open, staring at Delia’s thinly clad body. “I saw you walk in and I was wondering if you were uncomfortable somewhere.”

He cared so much, and how lovely it was, that it was unspeakably arousing a certain kind of wanting.

“I’m good as new,” said she, taking a few confident steps forward, causing Peter to step back. Last time she had taken the initiative and the result had been so satisfying that she could easily do it again. “You’re not busy, are you? Right?” Her question was very dry and somewhat deliberate, and the feeling of manipulation was exciting to her.

She looked at the everyday shorts and t-shirt Peter was wearing. He did his estimates at home so he didn’t have to dress up, so he was probably working …… all the time.

“Oh, I can’t say I’m busy,” Delia sensed more excitement than nervousness in his reply.

“Great!”

Delia felt calm but her lust was strongly aroused. She could control everything except her physical response. A pink manic heat slid over her face and neck, her nipples tightened into crepes, and her lower body was already wet.

“Excellent!” She repeated, lifting her robe and then inclining Peter with the weight of her entire body. Peter yelped in surprise, but before he could protest, Delia had brought her lips up to kiss him hard. His bare legs pressed against hers, and he shuddered.

She rejoiced in the knowledge that he was afraid of her, and though he was afraid, he was also crazy about her. His dungaree shorts rubbed against her soft belly, but the discomfort was exciting. She leaned her soft, wet groin against him, searching for his erection; for the swelling inside the zipper had bulged out. He moaned and Delia smiled against his mouth, and wiggled her hips against his body, loving it when he twitched his cock in response.

When Delia released his lips, he protested, “Delia, but …….”

“No buts!” She removed Peter’s glasses, disarming him. As she pulled his T-shirt upward to remove it, she realized that his face looked like a painting, lust and confusion warring on his pale face. It was as if he was being attacked by a stranger who had taken the flesh of his sensible female neighbor. Peter moved forward to get closer to her, gazing at her body. When close enough, she blocked him and took his hand away …….

His eyes were warm and a little lax, as if he was beginning to understand something, and he asked Delia, “What’s going on?”

She told him, “Don’t talk, be quiet and take your shirt and pants off.”

He followed her words clumsily and couldn’t help but blush as his penis stood out.

Delia hid her gleeful smile, very pleased with what she saw, though she maintained her cold demeanor. Peter did have a good looking cock, red at the tip and sweet enough to want to suck …… it. Knowing exactly what she wanted, she got on her knees and pressed her breasts against his thighs, mooching his crotch with her hungry face. His cock bobbed against her cheek, and she licked the sweaty, wrinkled area on his groin before burying her face deeper, wrenching the shaft with her hand so she could suck on his balls.

Peter couldn’t help but croon out as she played with one and sucked the other in her mouth, and then, as she grasped and played with both, he couldn’t help but cry out pitifully, his knees trembling. Delia held the ovoid as she savored the intense taste. Peter was a clean man, but it had been a while since he had showered and it was hot. His skin smelled strongly of sweat, somewhat reminiscent of semen – it was as if he had just arrived and hadn’t had time to shower Delia thought, Will you masturbate for me? Her saliva was already running down and wetting Peter’s balls. She could feel the growing urgency of his sex. It was against her face now, straight and twitching like a rod, hard as a glowing stick. She was tempted to suck it, to taste it, but she was prolonging its eagerness. She was stalling, taking her time, enjoying his body, his sex, and his mind. She used techniques she’d only recently learned.

“Please …… my cock,” he begged as Delia was rubbing her fingers over his buttocks and then resting them on the top between his thighs. She was still nibbling lightly on his balls and not touching his cock.

Delia used techniques she didn’t know she possessed, sexually, slowly running her fingertips over the crease of his buttocks, slowly tickling gently near his anus, making him fearful and pleasured. He was panting hoarsely, his chest rising and falling very violently.

When the globes had begun to tighten, Delia unhurriedly withdrew her hands and scrutinized the living, breathing man in front of her, desperately in need of an orgasm. He stood before her eyes, his feet supporting his body weight, his knees bent a little, his hands clenched into fists at his sides – the knuckles of his hands white from the exertion, showing his desire as well as his frustration. His eyes were tightly closed, and there were droplets of water on his beautifully lined face; on his lips and brow asked for sweat, while on his cheeks were perhaps tears.

“Please,” he was begging her, speaking through clenched teeth.

Delia put on a serious face, but from the sound of her voice, she was more aroused than cold, “Lie down on the floor.” Peter did as he was told while she removed the robe from her body and tossed it aside to admire Peter’s lower body which was oozing liquid from his groin. Delia found her body rippling violently at this point, like she was ready for Peter’s entry.

But she doesn’t shower sympathy on the poor man in front of her; instead, she changes tactics as she gracefully crouches down closer to Peter’s face.

From her crouched position, it was an unforgettable sight: a flat and hairy lower abdomen, long, lean, firm thighs, and a red, straight cock.

Delia ordered him calmly, “Lick, every place, don’t neglect it.”

It took her a while to get up from the blanket, her whole body glowing and feeling satisfied.

She whispered to the man who had fallen into a state of bewilderment, “I’m going to go make a phone call now, but I’ll be back in a few minutes, and when you’ve recovered, you can make me a drink.”

She smiled and walked over to the phone and dialed the agency her sister served. She missed Deanna already, but she knew her sister had made the right choice.

Deanna walked around on the sidewalk bricks in front of the agency she would no longer be serving at, thinking that it would be better this way.

If you do that, there’s no time for tears to fall, and heartbreaking goodbye scenes, no chance to question your decision and feel like a fool again.

All she needed was two phone calls, one to call and the other for her to dial.

Delia had already told her goodbye and said, “You must fix him for me!”

After Jack got her call he was very happy and said, “Great, I’ll send a car to pick you up in fifteen minutes, the valet will take care of your passport and you don’t need to bring anything else.”

She looked at the plain watch she normally wore on her wrist and pondered what Jack had just told her. She was carrying only a canvas bag containing some silk clothing, her purse, the rest of her makeup, and cheap perfume. The dress she wore was a pink cotton summer dress, very loose and short-sleeved; there was only a small pair of bottoms under the dress. The watch she wore and the old pair of casual sandals on her feet were just the right attire for a “long trip”,……, but she had a feeling that these trifles wouldn’t stay with her for long. She was on the verge of abandoning her old life style and anything associated with it.

She glanced down the street and caught a glimpse of a familiar long, dark shape approaching her, quite crowded with cars around it as if it were surrounded by a swarm of stars, but still driving straight towards her. When its rear door leaned just in front of her, the car stopped. A tall, white, man in black attire immediately walked over to her and opened the door for her. Once she was seated, Fargo returned to his driver’s seat – and for a few brief seconds, Deanna realized that he hadn’t opened his mouth to speak a word.

Sitting alone in the plush back seat of the car, a layer of foggy, furry glass separating her from this personal chauffeur, she suddenly raised her guard …… An unexpected, shrill sound rang out, and Deanna jumped in fright. She looked around for the source of the sound.

Beside her seat was a blue leather box about twelve inches long and eight inches wide, and a state-of-the-art cell phone. Deanna picked up the flimsy phone, pressed it down as Delia usually did, and experimentally said “Hello?” into the microphone.

“Hi, Dee dear!” Jack’s voice came through, clear on the microphone as if he were sitting beside her and explaining it to her. “Are you ready to begin your journey?”

“Ready,” she said, trying to appear confident. It was one thing to want to live an authentic sex life in theory, quite another in fact.

“Are you ready for me?” He emphasized the word “me” specifically, the way he always did, and when Deanna heard his voice, she knew she was ready for everything. For him, for sex ……

Who knew where he could be right now. Maybe at home, at some airport, or on the road like her, but no matter where he was, he always managed to arouse her. Deanna gazed at her body and realized that the curves of her breasts were showing through the thin white blouse, the obvious rounded vertebrae shape. She felt the change …… as her breasts became hard and sensitive, anticipating Jack’s proposed touch.

“Deanna, do you hear me talking?” He asked her, the soft, slightly raspy voice coming through the distance but not diminishing its power in the least.

“Is your desire aroused? Is it wet and moist! Is your body yearning for me?”

“Yes,” she answered him, but wasn’t terribly sure he could pick her up through the microphone.

“You’d better be sure, Deanna, feel yourself, take your bottoms off and try your fingers in …….”

His words almost made her dizzy, and she did her best to comply. One hand still gripped the microphone while the other strained at her clothing. After a bit of fiddling, her white cotton bottoms finally came off and rested on the shiny black leather seat of the chair. Deanna moaned lowly, not quite sure if she wanted to continue, then she lifted her skirt, spread her legs, and probed between her wet, moist legs with two fingers.

“Was it very easy to get it in?” Jack continued to ask, his voice dizzying.

“Yes.”

“Good, now, keep mooching your fingers back and forth to get them coated with body fluids and then you taste yourself.”

He was ordering her to do this same thing he had told her to do when they first met that night. Now, her pussy was just as warm and sticky and wet as it had been that night. She was on the verge of an orgasm and was tempted to touch her clit, but she knew that if she did, she would climax immediately and Jack knew it instantly. This high-performance action phone of his would instantly channel her chanting into his ears.

But it didn’t matter if he knew. Especially since they had been together for so long and he was about to be in charge of her future, everything was about to become his …….

So why does she still have this concern? She still retains a part of her heart that will always be hers alone …….

He continued to encourage her, “Tell me, how does it taste?”

“Salty, a little musky …… not very strong.” She licked her fingers, then involuntarily put them back between her legs. Her lower body quivered.

“That’s right,” he continued to guide her through the microphone.

Deanna rose boldly, her fingertips mooching herself and making lewd noises, but at the same time she wondered where the secret camera was mounted. She began to wonder about the lightweight word machine she held in her hand, but then shook her head. It was a sophisticated instrument, but she didn’t believe it could “hear” as well as “see”.

“Can you see me?” She asked Jack, smoothing her skirt, but still looking around.

“Only visible in the heart.” His soft, magnetic laugh was so intimating, as if he were close by. A question that one desperately wants to know suddenly springs to mind …….

“Jack, where are you?”

“Honey, I’m on the road just like you. On the road closer to our destination than you are. I’ve been on the road almost since you called.”

Deanna’s mind was filled with questions. How did he know she would say yes? Where were they leaving from? Who drove Jack? Because Fago was here. But now the matter was settled …… but she asked, “Are you alone?”

“Alf’s here. But I’m here alone, like you, through the soundproof glass.”

“Very good.” Deanna muttered to herself. Her questions turned to thoughts, lurid, lascivious thoughts. “Are your pants open?” She asked Jack.

“I’m naked from the waist down.”

There was the slightest hint of urgency in his words, as if he were gasping for breath. Deanna imagined he was sitting on the seat of the couch, spreading his legs and stroking himself.

When she lifted the hem of her skirt again, there was a sudden rustling murmur on the other end of the line, followed by a klaxon. When Jack’s voice reappeared, the sound quality was a little different, but still clear, loud, and more echoing.

“Deanna,” he said, his voice audibly trying to overcome the murmurs. “Have you seen the intercom unit in front of you? If you turn it to the left and put the microphone on it, the sound won’t be so loud.”

Curious, Deanna did as he instructed, and as soon as she answered and hung up the phone, Jack’s voice immediately came out from all directions.

“Much better,” his voice came through the clear amplification device. “‘Hands’ don’t have to hold things anymore, Deanna, it’s easier for you to caress yourself now …….”

Deanna doesn’t speak, but in her mind she sees Jack’s brown, slender hands. Clenched around his body, moving slowly.

“Deanna, have you seen the leather box?” He gasped slightly, and it heightened her suspicion. His tone gave away his bottom. Delia knew it was him in a state of extreme arousal.

“See.”

“Turn it on.”

She did as she was told – this time it was her turn to gasp.

The box contained several unusual items. One of them was obviously of great value, and several others were similar. They were all equally eschewable in style.

Deanna’s eyes widened as she picked up the most expensive piece: a narrow, elegant shawl of soft white leather with what looked like a platinum clasp, and the entire shawl was decorated with baroque pearls and precious stones. Deanna guessed that it represented her new status, but it was hard to imagine an ordinary “slave” wearing something so expensive. Still, she wore it around her neck without hesitation.

A few other items, she wasn’t so sure about.

Inside a glass tube was something like lubricant, and next to it were two erotic toys. One was about eight inches long and looked rough but was actually an artificial penis that had been molded with great care; the other was shorter, bulbous and flanged. It made Deanna shiver and reminded her of the feel of a cork.

“Do you still like the gift I gave you?” Jack asked her through the megaphone. “Deanna, these are for you as a start to a new life. Will you try them out for me and see? Now?” Even though Jack was talking to her through the intercom, Deanna felt that his eyes were right in front of her. His thin, fiery blue eyes were hiding in the dark interior of this car. They pierced her insides, making her body tremble with the sound, the reality, of his voice.

She hardly needed lubricant, though there was a thrill of uncomfortable sensation as she shoved that toy inside.

And while she shuddered in her seat, Jack kept attacking her with words. Asking questions about her wetness, the swelling …… of her private parts, and so on.

Deanna didn’t say a word, understanding that Jack knew she was moving as instructed – putting that toy inside her body. But in a playful relationship, she longed for another new way.

If she resisted Jack’s instructions, she would be able to control his inner imagination as he did. When the dildo and plug were placed inside, she let him hear a whimper, but what happened afterward Deanna did not pass on to him. Although she was doing as he instructed, she didn’t let him know her every reaction.

Jack’s moans were very primal and wild. As Deanna tucked something behind her, she could surmise that Jack was doing the same. As she was fighting every sensitive part of her body, Jack’s exuberant cries spread throughout the car, and it felt very strange that he himself was doing as he was instructed.

That sight would be very strange.

Deanna couldn’t tell what he was wearing, but her imagination told her that Jack was wearing a white shirt, its dazzling shiny collar making his brown body appear darker, his lower body darker and more majestic. It stood …… up like a rod from the groin area, the tangled pubic hair.

“Very good,” he let out a triumphant cry, and his firm hips were writhing violently. “God, Deanna, I’m going to fuck you! This time it’s all of you. Every inch, every crevice. I’m going to make you horny until you beg me to stop! I’m going to lick you and make you scream …… You’re going to love this! You’re going to be the happiest woman in the world! Every second of every day!”

That was a cocky oath, and she knew he could do it …… He was so handsome and beautiful that she could make him do whatever she wanted.

Deanna laughed out loud, her body writhing in the chair with the dildo. The strokes of her fingers should have brought her to orgasm long ago; Jack and her own lewd imaginings of the two things filling her body should have brought her to orgasm long ago …….

But in the end it wasn’t these that made her orgasm.

It’s power, her own power. It was delightful. She was climaxing because she had the power over herself, over Jack. No matter how much he screamed and said a bunch of obscene, foul language.

As Deanna lay in the rush-hour sedan, trembling and dripping sweat, listening to his exuberant cries, she knew that the tug-of-war between them had only just begun.

“I can’t stand the heat,” she said, remembering the palpitating exhibition of paintings so long ago where she pretended she was someone else.

Now she thinks she was wrong. She was the bold Deanna B. Ferraro – fearless Deanna – capable of undertaking anything, she had become very firm and bold.

Any behavior, challenge, lurid, against the norm, she can handle, as can the passion Jack wants to ignite. The question is, can Jack cover her just as well?

Thinking about it, she reached another orgasm …….