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- Joined
- Apr 27, 2019
- Location
- London
Maybe I should tell the girl to clean me with her tongue instead. Linda heard an errant thought. That wouldn't be cleaning. The rational part kicked in. She almost teared up when she realised that Charlotte's choice of action was probably the best she could go. She teared up because she realised that Charlotte and she wouldn't even dream of asking their hosts to use their bathroom. She watched Charlotte clean her up with the wet towel, and imagined how she would be standing there, in front of those two, with her mouth opening and closing, trying to find the right words. Stop thinking. Let the girl enjoy the accomplishment. She tried to smile, and then tried to blink away still forming tears. She pretended that she needed a stretch, and then realised she did indeed need the stretch.
She met the girl's ministrations with her body, slowly lifting her stomach, then her hips, offering them to be cleaned next, guiding Charlotte's hand without ever needing to guide or tell her. She read her mind and moved.
She couldn't really answer, it still felt surreal. It still felt like she was in some kind of Truman Show, and every fucking moment, the television crew would show up, and some marketing exec would tell them that ratings are low, Linda fucked up, and the show is done. Time to send her to the real world. That would have been more realistic than having anyone to actually worship her.
She felt the towel wash her breasts, stop around her still hard nipples. Part of her wanted to tell the girl to stop. She wanted to feel her on her skin, her cum, her sweat. She belonged to her. But she stayed quiet. Linda closed her eyes and gave into the sensation.
"You two were beautiful." A woman's voice broke the idyllic bathing ceremony. "Do you want to lounge with us?" The woman asked, and the man chuckled. "I need to pretend that I care about the guests, ladies. I'll be back later." The sound of a loud kiss. "Maybe." He said, probably teasing his wife, or maybe that was just the way they talked.
Protocol. What is the fucking protocol? She never used the word protocol in her life. And now she was wondering what one does do when they fuck in front of other people. Should she find an excuse and leave, or accept the invitation?
"I have prosecco."
She hated bubbly. But she was a guest. She opened her eyes. "Thank you." She tried to make her voice softer than usual. It did not sound good. "Just one more moment, to let my little…" Her mind raced for the word. "Slave." Shit. She regretted the pet name. "Finish the cleanup."
It was four am. Linda was awake for some time, but she only realised she was awake when the sky was tinted into its particular dull-bright-grey colour of the summer morning. Promising the imminent sunrise in an hour or so. They were lying on the large bed, four of them, naked. Charlotte was awake too, but silent. Linda didn't know how she knew that, but she knew Charlotte awoke the second she did, and lay there until her mistress would be ready.
She patted her hand in silence and shuffled from under the weighty, obviously expensive duvet. She didn't need to tell Charlotte to follow her. They picked their clothes from the floor and quietly left the room.
There were some people sleeping, and for whatever reason, Linda didn't feel like she should dress here, in front of the people who threatened to wake up any moment. She noticed the half-opened. The door led to the study. None of the guests was inside, and the women were able to dress in relative comfort until Linda noticed another half-open door. To a large antique safe.
Inside, they found a few bottles of scotch, probably the reason the safe was open in the first place, two hunting rifles, and a case with six expensive-looking watches.
She met the girl's ministrations with her body, slowly lifting her stomach, then her hips, offering them to be cleaned next, guiding Charlotte's hand without ever needing to guide or tell her. She read her mind and moved.
She couldn't really answer, it still felt surreal. It still felt like she was in some kind of Truman Show, and every fucking moment, the television crew would show up, and some marketing exec would tell them that ratings are low, Linda fucked up, and the show is done. Time to send her to the real world. That would have been more realistic than having anyone to actually worship her.
She felt the towel wash her breasts, stop around her still hard nipples. Part of her wanted to tell the girl to stop. She wanted to feel her on her skin, her cum, her sweat. She belonged to her. But she stayed quiet. Linda closed her eyes and gave into the sensation.
"You two were beautiful." A woman's voice broke the idyllic bathing ceremony. "Do you want to lounge with us?" The woman asked, and the man chuckled. "I need to pretend that I care about the guests, ladies. I'll be back later." The sound of a loud kiss. "Maybe." He said, probably teasing his wife, or maybe that was just the way they talked.
Protocol. What is the fucking protocol? She never used the word protocol in her life. And now she was wondering what one does do when they fuck in front of other people. Should she find an excuse and leave, or accept the invitation?
"I have prosecco."
She hated bubbly. But she was a guest. She opened her eyes. "Thank you." She tried to make her voice softer than usual. It did not sound good. "Just one more moment, to let my little…" Her mind raced for the word. "Slave." Shit. She regretted the pet name. "Finish the cleanup."
It was four am. Linda was awake for some time, but she only realised she was awake when the sky was tinted into its particular dull-bright-grey colour of the summer morning. Promising the imminent sunrise in an hour or so. They were lying on the large bed, four of them, naked. Charlotte was awake too, but silent. Linda didn't know how she knew that, but she knew Charlotte awoke the second she did, and lay there until her mistress would be ready.
She patted her hand in silence and shuffled from under the weighty, obviously expensive duvet. She didn't need to tell Charlotte to follow her. They picked their clothes from the floor and quietly left the room.
There were some people sleeping, and for whatever reason, Linda didn't feel like she should dress here, in front of the people who threatened to wake up any moment. She noticed the half-opened. The door led to the study. None of the guests was inside, and the women were able to dress in relative comfort until Linda noticed another half-open door. To a large antique safe.
Inside, they found a few bottles of scotch, probably the reason the safe was open in the first place, two hunting rifles, and a case with six expensive-looking watches.
End of Chapter I