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The Only Rules That Matter: Exploration (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Jenny must have seen him, because she moaned and pushed herself back and down, taking Anton's thick cock to the hilt. Her hands fisted in the big man's hair, pulling his mouth to her breasts as she mouthed I want you inside me. John's responsecwas to slowly lick his lips and cock his hips forward, letting her see his fist wrapped around his shaft.

"Deep and hard," he mouthed, and his cock jumped in his hand when he heard the question she asked the Russian she rode. God, he was close. But he wanted to hold off, to try and last at least until Jenny came. He wanted her to see him cum with his fist around his cock as she orgasned in her Russian's cock.


"Yebat' menya, Jennyasha," Anton swore, voice muffled as he bit and sucked greedily at her full, heavy breasts. "In front of your man, I would fuck you like this!" He sat up, the changing position spreading her thighs wider and driving his cock even deeper. One hand supported her back and the other dug into her ass, pulling her hips against his as he kissed her before taking his teeth to her throat. The playful bites stung, leaving livid red marks on her pale skin.

"Before your man I would mark you as mine," he growled, hips slamming upwards. The wet sound of his cock filling her cunt filled the air as he fucked hard enough to lift her knees from the bed and make her whole body shudder and bounce. "He would look at you, see the bruises on your throat, the bruises put there by your Russkiy zherebers, and see his woman's cunt hungry for a thick Russian cock!"

His hands moved, forcing her to grab his shoulders for support as he gripped her hips and pounded into her like a mad thing. Her upper body shook, head tossed wildly by the delicious force of his thrusts. "Such a good fucking cunt you have, Jennyasha! So fucking tight and greedy on my dick! On the thick, hard dick I use to fuck you before your husband! Cum on my dick, Jennyasha! Imagine you watching your husband watch you fuck your Anton with your glorious sweet cunt, and show him how hard you can cum on a stranger's dick!"
 
Jenny's sex twitched around Anton's cock when John mouthed back to her. God that was hot! Then Anton swore, begging her to fuck him, and sucked at her breasts and it was almost too much. Suddenly the Russian sat up and she whooped in surprise, clinging to his shoulders and gasping as he drove himself even deeper into her. She gasped for air when he released her from their kiss, baring her throat for him to bite. He promised to mark her as his as he fucked her hard, lifting her body from the bed with each thrust and making it creak.

"Oh fuck moy Antosha!" she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tossing her head back. He praised her, demanding her orgasm, and she didn't have to imagine John watching her fuck the massive Russian. "Antosha!" she wailed, slamming herself down on his cock. "Moy zherebets...moy lyubovnik...moy Antosha! Oh God yes...YES!!" Jenny's cunt pulsed around him as she came with an unintelligible cry which would have almost certainly been heard through the door. Her body convulsed forward and she locked eyes with John as she leaned her head against Anton's shoulder while she came.

"Oh God Antosha..." Jenny moaned, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "I can't wait to see how else you'll take me..." She took Anton's face in both hands and kissed him hard, dragging her teeth along his bottom lip for just a moment. "I hope you didn't plan on sleeping tonight, moy zherebets." She chuckled weakly, moving on his thick cock as her walls convulsed more weakly around him.
 
John bit his hand to keep from crying out as Jenby screamed her orgasm and his own cock seemed to explode in his fist. He had to brace one hand against the wall to keep from falling, doing his best to drink in the sight of his wife cumming violently on anither man. Her bidy heaved and her head tossed like a buoy, and he stared into her deep green eyes kniwing she could see his seed spurt from his cock as she rode Anton in sheer ecstacy.


"Sleeping?" Anton closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of Jenny's orgasm clenching around his shaft. "Jennyasha, I am a fisher - at times, I must be up all night!" Still gripping her hips, rocking her clit against his rock-hard length, he kissed her fiercely. He sucked at her tongue, her lips, and kissed her throat. "And you felt so good, Jennyasha. So fucking good on me." He kissed her again, plundering her mouth with a fierce hunger.

Then he was standing, the muscles in his back and arms and thighs heaving and bunching as he rose. He lifted her up, turning her easily in his powerful arms and pushing her against the dresser. He could see her eyes in the little mirror on top, glazed and heavy with sated lust, and he slud his rough hands up her body to cup breasts thar were fkushed with her orgasm. "All night," he breathed, biting her earlobe. His cock, stiff and slick with her orgasm, rubbed between her thighs. "I believe I promised to use you for my pleasure, once you had yours."

He rolled her breasts, lifting her up a little. "Look at my hands on your tits, Jennyasha. Look at the tits you offered me. How will they look, pressed into the hard woid as I fuck you?" His cock rubbed against her rear. "Should I fuck your greedy cunt again, Jennyasha?" He released her breasts, hands sliding down ger bidy. One finger of each hand filled her slit, and he massaged her inner walls. Then his right hand slipped away, to cup her rear.

"Or shall I fuck you here." he whispered, pressing his finger against the puckered button of her ass. Lubed with her own juices, the finger slid in with a minimum of resistance. "Shall I fuck you here, my cock spearing you into the dresser as I use your gorgeous ass for my pleasure? Which hole do you want my cum in first, Jennyasha?"
 
Jenny grinned against his lips when Anton kissed her, before he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She clung to him as he lifted her, reveling in the feeling of packs of muscle moving beneath his flesh. She grunted softly as he shoved her against the dresser and watched him in the mirror. She couldn't seen John from here--John who had cum hard even as she had--but she knew he was still watching. How would he like best to watch his wife being used, she wondered? Anton offered her a choice, and it was all so tempting.

"Just use me, Antosha," she breathed. "You are my zherebets and I am your little plemennaya kobyla." She moved her hips back, pressing his finger further into her ass, and bit her lip. "Any part of me feels so empty when it isn't filled with my Antosha." She moved her hips again, fucking herself with one thick finger in her ass and one in her slick cunt. Jenny moaned and slid her hands to her own breasts, wishing John could join in. She would see how both men felt in the morning, after she'd told Anton part of the truth.

"Trakhni menya, Antosha," she moaned. "Yebat' vash malen'kiy plemennaya kobyla. Please my stallion..."
 
"Oh, I plan to, Jennyasha," Anton growled, biting at her back as she fucked herself on his hands. "Ya planiruyu poyekhat' vas vsyu noch', Jennyasha. Mount you and ride you hard and deep and fast, using you all the night long." His fingers slid from her body, one hand wrapping around his thick cock and pressing the blunt head against the puckered entrance of her ass. "But not yet. First, I go slow for you, stretch you around me."

Still slick from her cunt, his head pushed into her rear. True to his word he did not go quickly. Much the opposite, in fact. His entrance was slow, agonizingly slow, letting Jenny herself open to his thick rod. The glans and shaft throbbed in time with his pulse, and he groaned as he felt her body grip and try to resist his entrance. "Blyad', malen'kaya kobyla," he groaned. "You are so tight for your stallion." His hands gripped her hips, holding her still as he finished claiming her ass, and his heavy testicles slapped against her soaking cunt. "Touch yourself," he groaned, slowly rocking his hips as he moved within her. "Touch yourself, and tell me how you wish to be ridden. Shall I be gentle, Jennyasha? Or shall I ride you until you scream for mercy?"
 
Jenny's mouth dropped open as he pushed into her ass, gripping the edge of the dresser so hard her knuckles turned white. For one reason or another it had been years since they'd done anal; probably because there had been a decade or so where they'd been completely in love with it but the novelty had completely worn off. Now with this stranger inside her it was a completely new experience. He was rather thicker than John--and John certainly wasn't insubstantial--but the pain seemed worth the pleasure.

"Go gentle with me, Antosha," she moaned as his pulse throbbed inside her. Jenny was still taking little sips of breath as she tried to get used to the feeling again. "For now, at least. It's been a while. Mmmm and certainly never with someone like you."

Slowly Anton moved inside her and as she got used to the feeling again she moaned. One hand slipped between her thighs, rubbing her still-sensitive clit as he fucked her ass. Her free hand kept a grip on the dresser to steady her against his thrusts. He wasn't fucking her particularly hard--yet--but the shear mass of his body against hers forced her forward with each motion. As she remembered again how good this felt she swayed her back and moved her ass back to meet him.

"There's a reason you're my zherebets," she moaned. "Fuck me Antosha! Make me scream! Fill me with your seed as you use me, make me cum again!"
 
Anton grinned as she asked - pleaded, almost - for him to be gentle. "As you wish," he rumbled, nipping her ear as he began to move. His pace wasn't hard, but every gentle forward motion was inexorable. She moved with him whether she would or no, but his hands on her hips prevented her from pulling away. "Be warned, though," he continued, voice husky as his tongue traced her earlobe, "you are tight, my little Jennyasha, so very tight on my dick. When I cum, it will be thick and hard."

Her response was a gutteral groan, and she put her fingers to better use. He could hear them, soft wet sounds as she pleasured herself. And he coukd feel them as well, brushing his thick rod through her walls as they plunged into her depths and brushing his flesh as his heavy scrotum swung against her with every thrust. "So tight," he growled, scraping his teeth against her neck. "Does your man fuck you like thus, I wonder? Do you moan on his cock as you moan for mine, Jennyasha?" His grip tightened, thrusting his cock a little deeper. "Will it be Anton you remember, when he uses your body next?"

At that her body tensed as she thrust back, fucking her own ass on his cock as he filled her. "There's a reason you're my zherebets," she moaned, leaning into the dresser as she moved on him.

Anton was getting close. He coukd feel it in the tightness of his balls and the rigidity of his cock as he took her. God, but he'd been right! So many women were intimidated by his size and balked at being buggered by his rod. But she was moaning and fucking herself on it, her whole body begging for more!

"Fuck me, Antosha! Make me scream! Fill me with your seed as you use me, make me cum again!"

Anton released her hips, curling one arm around her hip as he leaned against her. His free hand joined hers, bracing them both against the dresser as he began to pound into her. "Then scream for me, Jennyasha!" he roared, his weight making the dresser bang into the wall in time with his body slamming into hers. "Beg to be ridden, beg you Anton to fuck your beautiful ass!"

Pounding harder into her, he reached up and gripoed her shoulders. Then one hand grabbed her long hair instead, twisting it in his grip as he pulled it like a leash. "Fucking good, Jennyasha! You are... are... are so..." His words flowed into a roar of pleasure as he slammed hard into her one last tine. His cock throbbed within her ass then erupted, lava-hot cum pumping deep into her bowels as his orgasm tore through him.
 
God he was incredible! Jenny's fingers slid into her tight cunt and she bit her lip when she felt his shaft brush against her fingers, separated only by another part of her own body. She begged her to fuck him and he more than happily obliged. When he leaned over, wrapping an arm around her and bracing himself on the dresser she laced her fingers with his and stared into his eyes in the mirror.

"Fuck me Anton!" she wailed, tossing her head back and letting him catch her hair in his fingers. "Oh God Antosha fuck me! Cum into my tight ass! Yes... Oh God please...!"

Anton came inside her and the heat of his seed was enough to send her tumbling back over that precipice of pleasure. Her voice ragged from screaming, chest heaving, Jenny leaned against the dresser for support.

"You'll have to hold me up," she said with a weak laugh. "When you pull out I mean. You're the only thing holding me up." She laughed as she watched Anton in the mirror, her knees visibly shaking.
 
"Hold you up?" Anton laughed, the sound a sort of throaty wheeze as he tried to catch his breath. He planted feathery kisses on her back and neck. "Allow me to catch my breath, Jennyasha, and I will hold you however you wish."


Anton was a man of his word, John decided. He'd boasted he could be up all night, and he only failed because the winter nights here were six months long. Three more times the big Russian came in or in his wife, leaving her limp and spent by the time they both collapsed into sleep.

Silently, he closed the door and crawled into his own bed. He couldn't wait to hear Jenny's thoughts about this, in the morning.



Anton kissed Jenny, watchung her stir into wakefulness. As she did he stood, already fully dressed. "Ah, Jennyasha. Your Anton must leave now. My ship sails soon, and I must be on it. Would that I could stay longer, fir you were magnificent."

Kissing her once more, he headed for the doir. Fir all his size, his boits moved silently on the wooden floor. He paused in the ooen doorway. "Oerhaos when I return? And then..." he glanced at the adjoining door, then offered her a sly smile. "Perhaps your 'strict' husband will join us, then?"

With that he offered a little wave, and left.
 
Jenny moaned sleepily. She stirred when Anton kissed her and gradually came to consciousness beneath her great heap of fiery hair. She'd fallen asleep, exhausted but sated, sprawled across the Russian's broad chest and had been too deeply asleep to notice when he'd eased out from beneath her to get dressed. When she squinted up at him she frowned.

"Did you put your clothes on so I can undress you again?" she teased sleepily, though she knew perfectly well that wasn't it.


"Ah, Jennyasha. Your Anton must leave now. My ship sails soon, and I must be on it. Would that I could stay longer, for you were magnificent."

"Stay," she pleaded softly, catching his hand. "Antosha, stay." But Anton leaned down to kiss her and she allowed him to disentangle his fingers from hers. He glanced at the door before suggesting that John might join them next time and Jenny grinned, half guiltily half mischievously. "He would love nothing better. Until then keep yourself well, lyubnovik,. Return moy zherebets to me in one piece and maybe we can have more than one night of such absolute pleasure." She smiled and waved at him until he closed the door, then she sighed. She really had hoped they would have time for one more tryst.

To fill the sudden, queer feeling of loss Jenny slipped out of bed and crept into the adjoining room where her husband still slept. For the first time in a long while, the previous night's sport had left her legs wobbly, her hips stiff and sore. As stealthily as she could she slipped into bed beside him to wake him with gentle kisses and a hand around his cock. With a smile she began to slide beneath the covers just as his eyes were opening.

"It seems we weren't as sneaky as we thought," she murmured, her lips brushing his belly, "but he had to leave. Damn shame. I'm tempted to wait for him, y'know." Jenny kissed the tip of her husband's head and looked up at him from under the blankets. "But in the meantime shall we find you someone? Fair's fair, after all." To help him along with his decision Jenny's lips wrapped around his shaft as his head bumped the back of her throat.
 
John woke up to Jenny, beneath his blankets and between his legs. She wasn't often one for making love first thing in the morning, but she was keyed up and the sex that followed was volcanic. "I've no worries about you waiting for him," he finally said, once he could speak again. "Until our duty calls us again, that is. But... yeah. I guess we should go looking."

But, although fair's fair, fair hardly turned out to be simple. Pavlovskaya had the feel of some of the frontier towns they'd visited over the years, and there weren't many unattached women about. Except for the town prostitutes, but after some discussion they'd both rejected that idea. This encounter was to be about fun and experimentation and passion, after all. He wouldn't get that from a simple transaction. A married woman was rejected as well, mostly because they wanted to make sure that everyone involved would approve. In fact, he was on the verge of giving up and suggesting that they try greener (or, at least, warmer) pastures when he saw the teacher.

Well, the teacher was overstating things a little. Pavlovskaya was large enough to support a few teachers, but most of them were thick, matronly women whose fashion sense tended towards 'nun'. But this young woman was different. Slender and small, with a great mass of auburn hair pulled into a braid. Her nose was constantly buried in a book, with small spectacles perched on that nose as she read. He observed her for a day or so, trying not to look like he was stalking her as he di, observing her actions. She went from her apartment to the school, then from the school to a restaurant for dinner, and then to the small lending library the city offered, and then home once more.

"Her," John said finally, gesturing with an inclined cup. They sat in a small coffee shop, sipping the bitter black beverage and eating sweet buns, watching as she purchased tea. "There's just something about her that makes me want to bed her." He sipped his coffee. "Thoughts?"
 
It wouldn't have been fair to say that her husband was being picky, or even being all that choosy. They had simply agreed that buying a prostitute would take the fun out of it, and Russian women were...well...Russian. There was a stereotype for a reason, and the majority of unmarried, non-prostituted women here did nothing to break that stereotype. Women were more virtuous by nature; this would be trickier than simply picking up someone in a bar the way she had. But then John started disappearing for hours at a time, and after a few days brought her to a coffee shop to show her why.

"The redhead?" Jenny looked casually over his shoulder at the slender woman buying coffee.

"There's just something about her that makes me want to bed her. Thoughts?"

She grinned. "Captain Jack the corrupter, hm?" she teased with a smile over the rim of her cup. "Skinny redhead, can't imagine why you'd want to. You're hardly branching out, darling." Jenny chuckled and shook her head. "Go on then, before she gets away. We'll see if we can't get the same rooms as before...if you want me to watch, I mean." She'd assumed he would, as she'd let him watch her with Anton, but out of respect offered him the choice.
 
"Branching out can come later, love," John replied, kissing Jenny's fingertips. "Pavlovskaya is not as abundantly blessed with single women as single men. Besides, I like redheads."

Jenny chuckled and shook her head. "Go on then, before she gets away. We'll see if we can't get the same rooms as before...if you want me to watch, I mean."

"Oh, of course." He kissed her fingers one last time and rose. "Love you."

With that he strode off, pushing open the door and stepping into the dark and bitter cold of the December morning. Wind blew gently, sending puffs of snow sailing down around the hissing gaslights. Technically the sun had risen, but it was still too dark to read without them. As he strode along, boots crunching on the pack ice, John wondered exactly what he should do. Despite the reputation that 'Captain Jack' had acquired in myth and story, he had never been a womanizer. He'd married the second girl he'd ever kissed, and the first girl he'd fallen in love with, and he'd certainly never bothered to try and arrange an assignation for the night. That part of his legend was due entirely to the way Scarlett and Giselle had covered for him, and to the more rakish habits of his son.

How did one 'pick up' a respectable young woman? He couldn't exactly handle matters the way that Jenny had handled Anton, after all. She wasn't a randy sailor, and he wasn't a busty redhead all but announcing she wanted to fuck. And was it his imagination, or had the teacher slowed her pace a little? Then she stumbled, or seemed to, and dropped her book - an action that drew a snort of amusement from him. It was too ridiculous to be an accident, and too cliche to be deliberate. But...

John stooped and picked up the book. "I believe you dropped this," he said, glancing at it as he did. Essays, Second Series, the title said, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. "You haven't injured yourself, have you?"
 
Natasha had seen him now and then over the past few days, at the coffee shop or outside the school. He was handsome and didn't look like the brutish types who normally hung around Pavlovskaya. The tall, broad sailor who had brought her here, promising her a new life, a better life, had broken those promises within days and she'd kicked him out. Other young men around here weren't much better. This dark gentleman however, seemed shy as though he were working up the courage to talk to her. It was cute. She looked across the street for a moment and caught his figure from the corner of her eye. Maybe he still needed a little help.

The stumble had been fake but Natasha barely caught herself when her foot found an ice slick. The stranger was there before she had completely regained her balance, picking up her book and offering it to her. She smiled and looked down demurely before taking it from him.

"Niet," she said, shaking her head. "I am fine. Thank you for helping me." She smiled sweetly. "I think I have seen you before, da? In the cafe. I am Natasha."
 
"John," he answered, appreciating her smile. "And, yes. You probably have seen you around. To tell the truth, I've been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you for a few days now." He laughed a little, embarrassed. "I hope you aren't offended."

He really hoped not, because even with the freezing air playing hell with his sinuses, she even smelled good. And the body beneath the layers of skirts and winter promised to be magnificent. Not voluptuous and full-breasted like his Jenny, mind, but slim and elegant. "Are you doing anything right now?" he asked, giving her a lopsided grin. "Because now that I've worked up the nerve to talk to you, I'd like to press my luck and ask you to lunch."
 
Natasha laughed when he expressed hope that he hadn't offended her. "Of course not. It is very...sweet."

She blushed and clutched her book a little more tightly. She couldn't see his body beneath his thick coat but God how she wanted to. Wait...no it was wrong to think like that. Lustful, sinful...but possibly worth it for a man who looked like that. He was much smaller than Anton, less threatening and imposing and surely much gentler than he'd ever been. Then he asked her to lunch, grinning crookedly, and she nearly melted. Her knees were weak already.

"I would love to," Natasha replied with a giggle. God that giggle had sounded stupid, but he didn't seem to be minding. "You know a place? I go to same restaurant almost every day. It gets very tiresome."
 
"I haven't been in Petrovskaya long," John said, enjoying the little giggle, "but I've found a couple of decent places." He offered her his arm. "We'll head for the closest, and you can tell me if you've eaten there."

A delicious shiver went through him as she took the proffered arm. Not that he could feel anything but weight on his arm, not through the heavy winter clothes, but there was a certain naughty thrill to having a strange woman walking arm in arm with him. His thoughts began to drift as he started wondering what she'd look like naked, and be forced himself to focus. She'd agreed to lunch, that was all. Not bed.

The testaurant he'd chosen was called 'The Golden Tower', and it was run by a wizened old raisin of a Chinaman. Despite the name it was small and unprepossessing, and the air was heavy with the smells of odd spices. It wasn't wildly authentic - not all the necessary ingredients were easily had - but the cook still managed the task of replicating Huinan cuisine in the far north.

"I'll be honest," John said, pulling a chair out for Natasha. "I was surprised to find this place. But the food's good." He joined her, sitting next to her at the small table. "And you're reading Emerson?" He grinned. "I've started exploring some of his transcendalist philosophy myself, recently."
 
"I've never been in here," Natasha said quietly, looking around at the strange oriental decor. The smells from the kitchen were foreign but not unappealing. She smiled when John pulled a seat out for her and sat at the small table.

"Da he has some very interesting ideas," she replied. "The idea of God in nature is a beautiful one. He worships on the altar of the forest." She smiled brightly. She was aware, of course, of that Oneida business going on in the States but didn't suspect that John meant that. "His wordcraft is beautiful, yes?"

Jenny couldn't help herself. She'd seen the teacher stumble intentionally then walk off with her husband and she'd followed at a safe distance. Thinking it unwise to follow them in directly she waited fifteen minutes before going in and taking a seat herself by the window. She disliked oriental food--and was certain John had taken his new paramour here so that he could have some without her complaints--but eventually ordered some sort of rice dish that didn't sound too awful and some tea. Chinese tea was better, she had to admit, than the Russian stuff that pervaded Petrovskaya. She watched her husband over the rim of her cup, making sure the teacher's back was to her. It wasn't fair but she couldn't deny the flame of jealousy in her heart.
 
He'd expected things to feel awkward when Jenny walked in, but instead he found an odd desire to show off. To let her see him flirting and talking with anither woman. Oh, and there was a little smugness as well - he knew how she must be feeling right now. So, when Natasha was bent to her meal for a moment, he caught his wife's eye and mouthed "Jealous?"

"Oh, his wordcraft is supurb," John declared, deftly working his chopsticks. Natasha fumbled hers, again, and started to reach for a fork. "Here," he said, catching her hand. "If you'll forgive the boldness, let me show you." Her skin was smooth and warm as he placed the sticks, and his thumb traced her palm. "Rather like holding a pencil, and you only want to move this one."

She experimentally worked the sticks. "Like this?" she asked, then dropped them again. "Perhaps not."

John carefully settled them once more, the pads of his fingers stroking her palm as he did. "It just takes practice," he assured her, looking into her blue eyes. "'Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handiwork.'"

"What?" Natasha asked, blushing a little.

"Emerson," John said, still holding her hand. "One of my favorite quotes. Because you can worship wherever beauty is found."
 
Natasha's heart skipped a beat or two when he held her hand like that. Then he spoke of worshipping where beauty was found while looking right at her. She felt herself blush at his attentions, but her face wasn't the only part of her which was warm. When he'd sat he'd taken off his jacket and now she saw his form was even better than she'd imagined. Slender and lean but muscled, and beneath his shirt she enjoyed watching his biceps and shoulders move. God what she wouldn't give for those lean arms to be wrapped around her!

"And where do you worship, John?" she asked after a moment. "Petrovskaya is an old harbor town covered in ice," she gestured out the window with her free hand, not letting go of the hand which held hers. "Not many places to worship, I think."

Jenny was still wondering at which point jealousy turned into arousal. John had taken to showing Natasha how to use chopsticks the way he had taught her. The difference was he'd laughed at her every time she almost got food to her mouth before it fell back to the plate. In the end she'd been hungry still, but happy as the meal just dissolved into giggle fits. She smiled at the memory when John caught her eye.

Jealous?

Jenny made a rude gesture at him and stuck her tongue out. You wish, she mouthed back.
 
Natasha fumbled some chicken and went after it, concentrating on trying to capture it but only shoving it round the plate. John mimed being offended by Jenny's gesture, then blew a kiss. "Ice and snow, yes," John conceeded, catching the morsel with his own chopsticks and lifting it to her lips. "But there is beauty to be found in Petrovskaya. It just takes patience." He scooted around and took her hand, letting her feel his presence as he showed her how to use the unfamiliar tools. "One has to take the time to find it. Gently lay it bare so that it may be worshipped."

She hadn't slapped him yet, and her breathing was a little shallow and a charming flush colored her throat and cheeks, so he decided to push his luck a little. "Some say beauty is best worshipped on one's knees, and others on one's feet. Personally, I believe the how is unimportant - the blissful union with the divine may take many forms."

Pushing his luck farther, he picked up a morsel of chicken with his fingers and brought it to her lips. "But beauty, when found, should be worshipped for hours. It should be lingered over, and explored."
 
John slid next to her, wrapping one arm around her and taking her hand in his to show her how to use the chopsticks. Natasha shivered, though the restaurant was quite warm, as she felt his breath against her neck. Goosebumps raised visibly on her arms when he mentioned laying beauty bare to be worshiped. The teacher was having a difficult time remembering to draw breath. He brought a piece of chicken to her lips and Natasha took it, daring to let her lips linger over his fingertips as she did.

"Perhaps you could show me some time, da? How you worship?" she suggested breathlessly. "For I think too I have recently found beauty in Petrovskaya. It takes, like you say, patience."
 
John made a little throaty sound of enjoyment as Natasha's lips caressed his fingertips. "It would be my pleasure to show you," he murmured. "And I have found that, when beauty is discovered, one should not wait to worship." His fingers brushed against her lips. "Beauty demands worship, in my experience, and waits for no man." With that he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers. The kiss was quick and light, a brief sensation of softness and heat and a mingling of the spices of the food with the subtle flavors of the woman beside him. Heart pounding in his chest he drew back, genuinely expecting to be slapped hard at any moment.

Getting slapped, after all, had become something of a common event in his life.

She stared at him for a moment, breath shallow and eyes wide. Then she leaned forward, her fingers stroking his face as she opened her mouth to his. The second kiss lasted longer, and she made a small sound of assent as his tongue pressed against her lips and then slide between them. This time she was the one who drew back, watching him with shy, eager eyes. He smiled, and cupped her cheek. "Now is some time, Natasha," he whispered. "But worship is a private matter. Perhaps we could go elsewhere...?"
 
She was crazy. An absolute sumasshedshiy. But her heart was beating so hard she could barely breathe and she didn't seem to be in control of her own body when she nodded. She wasn't a girl like this. She didn't go home with random strangers she'd just met. But John... Oh God John made her want to do so many awful things and going off alone with him was just the start.


Jenny waited in room 4. The jealousy in her heart had flared even more as John had kissed the girl, but along with that there had been more. Some dark part of her soul had stirred deep inside her and she wanted to watch him take her. She wanted to watch John strip this innocent little doll and turn her into something wild, into some animal thing obeying not God or man but only instinct and passion.

But while she sat on the bed in room 4, touching herself lazily while she waited, Jenny told herself that it had just merely been arousing to see what her husband looked like when he kissed her. That was all. She ignored the dark thing inside her that wanted to see the flower of innocence laid bare and, worse, wanted to help ravish the little Russian doll.


Natasha crushed a kiss to John's lips before he'd even closed the door of room five. She tugged off his jacket if nothing else then to feel those strong, slender shoulders beneath her fingers.

"Show me, John," she mumbled against his lips. "Teach me to worship."


Jenny stood in the doorway as soon as John had unlocked it. The door opened quietly halfway and she stood in her corset and bloomers, leaning against the doorjamb to watch. She smiled at John once she'd caught his eye she pulled playfully at her own corset laces while he undressed Natasha.
 
John fumbled blindly with the door, somehow managing to close it despite Natasha's demands. He worked the lock as her body strained against his, her lips hot and needy on his mouth. "Show me, John," she murmured. "Teach me to worship."

In response he caressed her body, hands slowly sliding upwards to her throat. "Worship begins slowly," he whispered, aware of Jenny's eyes on him. Glancing at the cracked door and the shape of his wife in the darkness beyond, he parted Natasha's lips with his tongue. As she clung to him, meeting his kiss with her passion, he began to work the tiny pearl buttons at her throat, stroking the bared skin with his thumbs as he did. "And the object of worship must be explored."

More buttons parted, baring the globes of her small - in comparison to Jenny, at leasts - pert breasts and the white silk of her corset. His lips followed his thumbs, tracing a line of damp heat along the slender column of her neck and over her collarbone. "And beauty needs no adirnment," he whispered, slipping her unfastened blouse offher shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

Now he turned to the buttons that fastened her long skirts, nimble fingers opening each in turn by feel as he kissed the soft flesh in the valley between her breasts. There was a rustling whisper as the heavy cloth of skirts and petticoats pooled around her ankles, and he stepped back to admire her form. She was slender and gently curved, her figure accented by the silk corset that slimmed her waist and pushed up her breasts. Garters on her thighs supported stockings that disappeared into prosaic and functional mid-calf boots.

"Ah," he breathed, kissing her again. "You are truely worthy of worship." His hands slid over her comoact body as he kissed his way down her body, crouching to brush his lips over her silk-covered belly. "And one begins one's worship on one's knees," he grinned, nipping lightly at a bare thigh.
 
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