The hard spine of his aroused cock stood out sharply in the fabric of his skintight jeans. The imposing size of the bulge seemed improbable, trapped, yet unable to fit within its strict confinement.
“Precious flower,” he said as his hand slid over the rippling shape of his hard desire.
He had large, strong hands, but they were not the hands of a typical laborer. His labor was the flesh and muscle of a body such as hers. The pads of his fingers were firm but uncalloused. His nails were short and manicured. So clean.
She was reclining on a seat something like the pedicure chair, yet broad and open, more like the palm of a giant hand. She had the sense of being back in the salon, but the space was indefinable, as if the actual room were walled in by the edge of the pool of light surrounding them.
“Spread it for me, pretty thing.”
His voice was even deeper in the dream. His accent more ambiguous. She was all but paralyzed by the stark realization her legs were flung open as wide as her arms. He was gazing openly at the pouting slit between her thighs. Rendered bald as a grape by Elizabeth’s hands, she was wracked with the kind of shame that made her blood run hot enough to feel like steam in her veins.
“Yes, sir.”
Her hands moved slowly to her thighs, each one trembling as they slid over silken skin to the aching lips of her core. Rafe’s grin widened as he lowered the zipper on his pants. Her fingers touched and raked her pussy, drawing thick moisture out. He opened his pants completely and pushed them down. His cock snapped out and stood up hard. Proud. So. Fucking. Big.
Could there ever be such a thing as a perfect cock? A perfect pussy? A perfect pair of lips or eyes?
Her breasts were too big for her body, but Rafe kept lifting his eyes to look at them as he stroked his rigid cock in front of her. When he growled, somehow she knew he was telling her to hurry…to push those fingers inside herself.
“Look at me, beautiful thing,” he told her. “No. Not at my face. At this.”
He wagged his prodigious cock, drawing her attention. The grip he took on his shaft seemed viciously tight. It seemed improbable he could still skim his fist up and down that marble-solid shaft. A whimper slipped past her lips as she let her finger drift around the inner rim of her entrance. Trickles of body honey tickled her flesh.
“Oh fuck,” she moaned, pushing her finger inside.
“Your clit,” Rafe growled.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
While her finger slid deep, then beginning a slippery stroke in and out of her streaming hole, she gnashed the pads of her left hand fingers over the pearl-hardened bud of her clit. Leaning back against her shoulder blades, her hips rose, dancing with the lewd desire flushing her cells like a brushfire.
“What do you want, pretty thing? What do you need?”
“I…I…no…can’t say…”
The sound of his laughter echoed through space far beyond the fringes of the light. She had the horrifying sense he knew what she was thinking. What she wanted. That she could never conceal the unspeakable truth living inside her.
“Say it, pretty thing.” His cock was glistening now as precum flowed from the tip. “Say it for me.”
“I…I…need…”
“Sakura. Sakura!”
Paxton was standing at the foot of her bed. The door was flung open and light from the hallway defined his body. He was naked but for the clinging boxer briefs he was wearing. Black, as always.
She lifted her head off the pillow, still caught somewhere in the ether between her dream and midnight reality. Having gone to bed in nothing but the panties she put on after her bath, her naked breasts were exposed as she sat upright, causing the sheet to fall away. Her panties were wet, tacky, pasted to her mound as a result of her interrupted dream.
She was almost used to him seeing her like this by now, yet her lifelong wrestling match with her own sense of shyness could never leave her mind free of that slim patina of shame. As she thought briefly back on the way Rafe had seen her that day – open – dripping with heat – she found herself craving that mind-obliterating push of his fingers even through the haze of her indignity.
She felt a different kind of shame under Paxton’s gaze. He was her benefactor. Her mentor. He was almost her lover, after a fashion. He would become even more one day, at least for a time. She found herself with the growing concern of being pretty enough, obedient enough…possessing of the sensual wisdom a man such as he demanded.
Even with her lack of experience, she recognized Rafe and Paxton as being two, very different animals. Feral and raw vs. feral yet refined.
Instinct begged her to cover her unwieldy breasts, but she fought the urge, knowing he would be displeased. His eyes dropped from her face to her nipples. They felt huge and unruly. An embarrassment.
The man was intensely aroused, with the imposing bulge of his erection stretching the front of his dark colored briefs, but the expression on his face was stern.
“Yes, sir,” she finally answered, her faculties slowly gathering focus.
He remained silent, his attention on her naked breasts as his hand drifted over the shape of the bulge in his briefs.
“Uncover yourself,” he told her, squeezing his thinly veiled shaft.
With a silent nod, Sakura pulled the sheet away from her hips and legs. Paxton sat down on the end of her bed.
“Come lay your head in my lap.”
She turned her body around and did as he asked. His hard cock nudged her head, while he ran his hand over the full mounds of her naked breasts, pausing to tweeze each of her engorged nipples. She felt embarrassed by his attention to her oversized nipples, but his matter-of-fact way of playing with them was making her pulse feel like tiny jolts of electricity. Then his hand slid further down her body, briefly grazing the inside of each thigh before covering her panty-clad mound.
His fingers pressed firmly, rubbing her slit through the fabric. Then he slipped his hand underneath her panties and felt her dew lacquered slit.
“I’d give anything to know what you were dreaming about just now. But a person’s dreams are the ultimate refuge, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir,” she agreed softly but readily. She couldn’t imagine the shame of anyone knowing her dreams. They could be raw and obscene even to her.
His finger traced her lips and then slipped inside, massaging the very mouth of her entrance. She pulled air deeply into her body and rubbed her head again the hard cock in his briefs.
“But then,” he went on, “the things we do consciously have a way of coming back to haunt us.”
Part of her wanted to freeze. Did he know? How could he? Surely Elizabeth wouldn’t have told him what happened at the nail salon. But then his finger slid deeper into her pussy. Calmly stroking into and out of her. She arched her hips slightly against the infuriatingly slow drive of his finger. The weight of what he was telling her settled on her slowly. She understood what he was getting at, but it couldn’t fully penetrate the haze of sensation she was feeling.
It was a rare enough moment to be alone with him, let alone the unprecedented way he gently stroked her hair while his finger lazily pumped her core. But then he drew his finger out of her pussy and brought it to her mouth, painting her lips with the moisture coating it.
“Apparently, you and my wife had quite a day for yourselves.” His tone was light on the surface, but there was an underlying husk in his voice that struck her as foreboding.
She started to speak, even without knowing what to say, but he shushed her softly. His finger continued drawing slick circles over her lips.
“Take off your panties and come upstairs to the attic. We need to have a little chat.”
Paxton hunched over and kissed her mouth. It was hard, deep and too brief. She wanted to be kissed that way for hours, but she realized that once he’d kissed away the taste of her pussy he’d gotten what he wanted. Then he moved her head off his lap and stood up.
“Don’t be long,” he told her as he left the room.
Sakura lay on her bed a couple of minutes. She missed being touched by the man who seemed completely unconcerned with any shame or shyness she struggled with. She missed the feeling of his finger slipping inside her. At the same time, she couldn’t imagine how he would know about the nail salon, or even how much he actually knew. How could he know anything at all unless Elizabeth told him? And why would she tell him anything if she knew it would displease him?
Then she realized how Paxton had much the same effect on his wife that he had on her. If he’d asked her anything pointedly, she couldn’t imagine doing anything but bowing her head and spilling the unvarnished truth. She rolled and pushed herself up. As instructed, she took off her panties and left.
The large panel in the ceiling at the end of the hallway was open, and a retracting set of stairs had been unfolded. She’d never been up in that part of the house, and wasn’t sure why she’d been summoned there now, rather than the comfort of the master bedroom or the plush, book-lined room Mr. Paxton referred to as his office.
She felt naked as she took the narrow stairs. It was one thing to be naked, but another to feel exposed and vulnerable. There were times Paxton could make her feel naked even when she was fully dressed. As much as there was always a gleam of admiration in his eyes, his stare had the power to make her feel small, dainty yet insignificant, yet at the same time the lips of her pussy would feel thick with a kind of liquid fire.
A few times since her arrival – for the first time she could remember – in the dark of her own private nights lying in that bed that wasn’t really hers – she felt herself become that liquid fire. Somewhere down under the layers beneath the layers of herself – beneath her shame and fear – she was the burning core of her own universe, hot and bright enough to erase the stars.
But it had to be a dream. She felt the play of muscle and sinew in her smooth, bare legs as she took the steep, narrow stairs. The chill in Paxton’s voice when he’d hinted about the salon was still echoing in her mind. Her pulse was racing yet her palms felt clammy.
Her benefactor’s seamless sense of control gave him the air of a man completely above anger, yet she knew no man was truly immune. And then, those who rarely give in to it break like a derailing train when it finally comes down.
When her head rose up through the hatch, she froze and let the unexpected sight settle in her mind. The entire space was open and finished as elegantly as any other room in the house. The ceiling was pitched, and there were only two, small windows at the front and back, though there were shades drawn over them now. The wood floor was burnished til it glistened, while Persian carpets covered two or three areas. There was a salon set-up in one area, with a broad sofa, table and a couple of easy chairs. At the far end was a similar area centered around a large, flat screen television. Several feet from there was a broad futon covered with sheets. Sakura instinctively knew they had to silk, like every other bed sheet in their house.
In the center of the space, Elizabeth was lying face down on a padded weight lifting bench. Each of her wrists was lashed to its metal legs with dark colored scarves. Her knees were tucked against the other set of legs, also lashed with scarves at the lower end of her thighs, just above the bend.
She was wearing a matching, lace bra and g-string. Her hair was pulled back in her signature twist, but not nearly so crisp as usual, with wild strands of blonde hanging stray.
Paxton was standing over her, the flat of one palm pressing down between her shoulder blades while he caressed the exposed spheres of her ass with the other. He drew the g-string off to the side and stroked the lips of his wife’s pussy as he noticed Sakura’s head above the hatch. He nodded without a word, and despite the tremor in her limbs, she took the rest of the steps up and entered the room.
Despite the soft appearance of the scarves binding her, there was something raw and foreboding about seeing her beautiful hostess bound to the bench. She must have confessed what they’d done that day to her husband. It wasn’t so hard to imagine. Paxton had a way of making you say things you didn’t really want to.
It felt as if her blood were running with the shame of betrayal as she approached. She almost felt responsible for Elizabeth’s actions, and most certainly that her own had been enough to spur her husband to send her back to her homeland.
Paxton kept his eyes on Sakura even as he slid two of his fingers into his wife’s pussy, dragging them back out wet to suck them. The co-ed came to a stop within a few feet of the bench. She flinched when her host raised his hand and sharply swatted Elizabeth’s ass with an open palm.
The young woman pulled in a quiet gasp. It was as much the stark sound of the slap as the surreal sight of her normally unflappable host gritting his teeth and smacking his wife’s buttock. She was horrified. It wasn’t a side of their intimacy she ever expected or needed to see. Yet her awful nipples burned with feeling without being touched. The slick flush Paxton had brought to her pussy down in her room was turning into a shameful ache.
The man leveled a serious gaze on her as he rubbed his palm soothingly over the spot he’d just spanked. He was still wearing his boxers. They were still stretched out of shape by the unruly bulge of his aroused cock. He spanked his wife again. Harder than before. Sakura tried not to flinch but she knew she had.
“Maybe you think you were enjoying a bit of female bonding today,” he said. “The two of you growing closer. Sharing dirty secrets between sorority sisters.”
Sakura bowed her head. Her long hair hung over her face like a curtain. She didn’t know what to say, and she couldn’t bear to look Paxton in the eye. She tried to catch Elizabeth’s eye surreptitiously, but the blonde was gazing stoically forward, not even registering her awareness of the younger woman’s presence.
Suddenly the man was standing in front of her, and she found herself staring down at the vicious bulge straining his tight boxers.
“You could’ve said no,” he told her. “You could’ve saved your friend all this pain and discomfort. But no. You were curious. Selfish. Which is pretty much the same thing. You let her lead you straight down a path you’d never have the courage to go on your own.”
She was deeply shamed by the truth of what he said. She wanted to close her eyes and let tears of remorse squeeze through her lashes. Not remorse for what she’d done, but for what she was. And for how transparent she was under Paxton’s attention.
His large hand ran calmly over the shape of his cock, then came up to her chin, lifting her face. “Your impulsive friend…my wife…is going to pay the price for your actions. And of course for her own. But if you think you can avoid facing these consequences head on, then you must think again.”
Paxton gripped her by the wrist and led her to the back end of the bench. The rigid state of his cock was strikingly obvious as his prominent shaft distorted the shape of his boxer briefs. Elizabeth remained conspicuously silent, the depth of her breathing only betrayed by the slight movement of her body.
“On your knees.” His tone was almost casual. He sounded like a man who was simply performing a necessary chore despite the harsh suggestion behind his words and the bold arousal of his body.
Sakura sank to her knees in silence. She found herself facing her host’s misshapen briefs. There was a wet spot over the shape of his cockhead she hadn’t noticed before. The ache in her nipples deepened. Flashes of the front of Rafe’s pants bulging with his erection as he’d left her in the massage chair that day fired unbidden through her mind. Then there were fleeting images of Dr. Lanyard as she imagined him fondling himself beneath his desk as she’d sat in his office.
The young woman’s body suddenly felt on the verge of overpowering tremors. Smoke of a fire brewing inside began to seep out through her pores. The heat was beginning to dance across her skin. Scandalous whispers echoed in her mind – the voice of some remorseless devil – saying all those men were selfish cowards, hiding desire that couldn’t be hidden.
Tendrils of Elizabeth’s scent were curling into her senses while the fire spread over her skin. She wanted to see them all – to see them give in to themselves and reveal their aching cocks – Rafe, the professor…Paxton. She wanted to see them grip their helpless flesh and stroke while she memorized the differences between them.
“You’re distracted,” her host told her as if he knew every detail of the thoughts going through her mind. “Pay attention. Take down my briefs now.”
She wanted to glance up at his face, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she reached for the waistband of his briefs and began to pull them down, working them over the obstacle of his excited cock. A strange sense of relief came over her when his shaft sprang free and bobbed in her face. Some force inside her, the same one the voice had come from, was urging her to reach out and take hold of that solid flesh. To feel the heat and texture of his skin. To taste him.
But she didn’t dare.
He swiftly brought his hand across his wife’s ass, causing his cock to bounce heavily in the wake of the unexpected smack.
“How could you?” he asked.
She couldn’t tell if the question was directed at either Elizabeth or herself, or at no one in particular. Then he spanked the blonde’s ass several more times.
“How could you let the rough, filthy hands of a stranger touch what’s mine? They were inside you, weren’t they? Inside.”
She knew he was speaking to both of them, and the thought of his off-hand way of saying she was part of what was his – his swift assumption – gave her a feeling of dread and exhilaration at the same time. She had never belonged to anyone before. The very notion of it had always struck her as having a strangely academic appeal. Like skydiving. How would such a foreign thing feel?
But she wasn’t entirely his. She was theirs.
Despite the sneer behind his tone – or perhaps even because of it – Sakura felt the palpable memory in her flesh of Rafe’s fingers spreading the swollen, wet lips of her pussy and pushing inside. She had the distinct feeling he already knew every detail of what had happened – that Elizabeth had told him everything, right down to the way she’d given in and cum around the sure thrusting of Rafe’s fingers.
And she felt he knew exactly what he was doing to her. His mind was like a simmering cauldron of obscene conniving. When his hand swung across Elizabeth’s ass again, she discovered herself focusing on the way his rigid cock swayed and bobbed with the gesture, a thread of ripe precum whipping outward from the tip. It seemed to fly off to nowhere while she couldn’t help felling as if it had been wasted – that his slathering ooze belonged on his wife’s blushing ass. Or flung helter-skelter across her lips.
He was too hard – the head of his cock too wet – to be anything but wholly inflamed by the erotic transgression he was punishing them for. He hooked his finger under his wife’s thong and pulled it aside.
“Show me what he did,” he demanded.
Sakura lifted her eyes from his strutting cock to his face. He had a deadly serious expression while wildfires were burning in his eyes. Elizabeth kept silent, except for the rising sound of her breathing. She barely flinched when Sakura placed her hand on the inside of her thigh, but a telltale tremor rippled through the woman’s slender muscle.
The coed kept her eyes low, with Elizabeth’s pussy and Paxton’s cock dominating her field of view. The blonde’s sex lips were swollen and damp, and as Sakura traced her fingers over the other woman’s slit, her nectar readily flushed and coated the petals framing her elegant hole.
Yes. Elegant. And raw.
Sakura had barely noticed what Rafe’s workmate had done to Elizabeth’s pussy. She’d barely noticed what he’d done to hers except for the memory in her slit of his skillful touches and probes. She went by sense memory as she massaged the blonde woman’s pussy. When Paxton began stroking his rigid shaft so close to her face she had to. The steady slide of his hand pulled her attention away from Elizabeth’s pussy, but her fingers never gave up in their exploration.
The surroundings began to blur. The faint yet heady aroma of straining flesh – a mixture of the coed’s enigmatic hosts – rose into Sakura’s senses and made her dizzy. Paxton’s cock, merely inches from her face, caught in the tight grip of his stroking hand, was lacquered all around the tip from his oozing flow.
She wondered how he could squeeze such a sensitive piece of flesh so hard without causing himself terrible pain. But then, as she studied its state of rippling hardness, it seemed formidable. Resilient and strong. She wanted to lean forward those last few inches and smear her lips with the fluid seeping out of it. But she didn’t dare make a move he hadn’t sanctioned.
She heard the lazy rush of the man’s breath as he stroked himself audaciously in her face. The thought suddenly dawned on her how he was brandishing the third erection she’d caused that day. Or if not exactly caused, been deeply enmeshed at the core of each scenario: the professor in his office – Rafe as he’d taken her body into the ether with only his hands.
She felt certain Elizabeth must be familiar with days like this, and she couldn’t help wondering how much so. Her fingers slid over and around the blonde’s honey-dripping pussy while her gaze remained focused on the man. Touching blind. Another woman’s core. It was almost like touching herself. Everything was the same yet different, like walking into a familiar room where the furniture’s been ever so slightly rearranged.
Sakura only took her eyes off Paxton’s cock as she began to slide her ring and middle fingers into his wife’s pussy. The blonde’s breathing deepened, growing louder by degrees. The younger woman’s fingers slicked in and out of that cream lathered sheath like a pale imitation of the man’s cock.
With the dark strip of thong forced out of place, the blonde’s puckering rosebud was fully exposed. It struck Sakura as humiliating and profane, although everything about her near naked, kneeling hostess was imbued with an air of delicacy and elegance. As she massaged the woman’s inner walls with her fingers, she pressed the pad of her thumb over that obscene starburst.
Elizabeth whimpered. Paxton’s free hand swung across her cheek a sharply resounding smack. Sakura flinched harder than the blonde. She’d always understood there were those like her who felt a jolt of pleasure within the sting, but she never imagined witnessing it from close enough to breathe the air. To find herself an integral part of the whole vortex should have been terrifying, but her unwieldy nipples were bursting into flame. Her pussy throbbed from somewhere deeper than her flesh, heart pounding like a building falling down.
Paxton smacked his wife’s ass several more times, and it seemed as if the woman’s pussy flushed harder against the coed’s fingers with every strike. He kept stroking himself with the other hand, but when the rain of spanks ended, he placed that hand over Sakura’s and pressed the girl’s thumb into the gap of his wife’s ass.
“Let it go inside,” he instructed. His tone was almost like the professor’s earlier that day. “Don’t rush. Just let it sink through the resistance.”
The naked houseguest did as instructed. A strange feeling washed through her as she watched her thumb gradually deepen into the other woman’s ass. Something oddly warm yet somehow feral. She briefly imagined the girth of Paxton’s cock stretching the tiny ring of muscle as he fucked her there. She felt like some kind of cultured animal pressed into the service of the court of a foreign aristocracy.
In the end, was she anything else?
The tip of her thumb came into contact with her fingertips through the membrane separating Elizabeth’s ass and pussy. It felt thin as a surgical glove…yet so wet…and so alive.
The coed rocked her hand, see-sawing her fingers and thumb into the blonde’s adjacent channels. She drew hard breaths while Paxton stroked his cock and spanked his errant wife until her cheeks broke into a disturbing hue of scarlet. Sakura reached between her thighs with the other hand and began a hard rub over her aching slit.
Elizabeth was gasping weakly now, grinding her svelte body against the bench. Against her bonds. The man released his cock and caught Sakura’s wrist, pulling her hand free of his wife’s body. He pulled her upward, urging her to her feet. She hadn’t even realized she’d been moaning until she stopped, and Paxton was leaning close to her ear.
“You’re doing beautifully,” he whispered softly.
The young guest simply nodded, feeling pleased without fully knowing why.
Paxton guided her around the bench until she was standing directly in front of his tethered wife. He was standing close behind her, the slick heat of his cock head rubbing against her back. His hands slipped under her arms and around her front to cup the fullness of her naked breasts. His cock pressed in harder against her, the full length of his shaft laying into her skin. Large hands, strong fingers kneaded into the yielding flesh of her sensitive breasts.
After a few moments, he caught her prominent nipples between thumbs and fingers, twisting roughly. Pulling. Fresh syrup flushing her aching pussy.
“It’s one thing when you sneak off to be fingered by a…well…nail technician,” he said derisively. “But you let him touch our cherry blossom. This flower. Your behavior is less than acceptable.”
When he released his grip on her breasts and placed his hands on her shoulders, Sakura felt herself being guided back to her knees. She was face to face with Elizabeth now. The blonde’s lips were glistening wet. Paxton shifted into the space between them, but slightly to the side. His cock and both women’s faces formed a surreal triangle. When he pushed the blunt, wet head of his cock against Sakura’s lips, she instinctively opened her mouth while he slid his cock across her tongue toward the opening of her throat.
The younger woman’s eyes widened. As much for Elizabeth being so close, watching, as for the cavalier invasion itself of her mouth.
Paxton began sliding his cock in and out, fucking her mouth while he grabbed a fistful of his wife’s fine hair with his left hand.
“Watch,” he growled. “Learn. Understand. Never fail in love and devotion.”
With the hot, swollen substance of his cock steadily sliding in and out of her mouth, Sakura realized he was talking to both of them. The blonde’s unflinching eyes were on the younger woman’s face. The tip of her tongue swept out to trace the oval rim of her sensuous mouth. The angle of her head might have seemed proud except for the way her husband was holding her position by the clutch of her mane.
He was beginning to thrust with the whole movement of his body. Sakura was barely conscious of how much of his long, thick cock was penetrating her mouth. She pushed her hand between her own thighs and clawed at her flushed pussy lips, and felt the steady, back and forth scrape of the man’s cock through her lips…across her tongue.
Paxton’s groans deepened into guttural curses, and the wet heat of his gushing cum surrounded the pistoning flesh in her mouth.
The man spent himself hard. When he finally pulled out, he was still holding Elizabeth by the hair. He put his other hand on the back of Sakura’s head and pushed her face into his wife’s. The blonde immediately kissed her, sweeping her tongue into the coed’s cum lashed mouth.
Sakura kissed the woman back with a soft whimper.
She was barely aware of Paxton walking away while she and his wife kissed each other through the diaphanous veil of his taste. When the kiss finally broke, he was standing right beside them. His cock was still wet enough to bear a shine. He’d relaxed and softened, yet still looked thick and imposing. Something long, oddly shaped and neon pink hung from his hand.
He let the object drop onto the rug Sakura was kneeling on. It was a vibrator, but nothing like the young coed had ever seen. It was long, and tapered toward an end that split in two. It resembled a distorted, garishly colored letter Y with too long and too thick a stem. She couldn’t think about how anything like that could go inside a woman’s body. Or even if it should.
“There,” Paxton said, pointing down at the vibrator. “Now the two of you can have yours…as if you haven’t had enough for one day.”
His tone was serious but mild, and when he was done, he turned on his heel and walked off toward the hatch in the floor. He took the little staircase down, finally disappearing beneath the level of the floor.
Sakura’s body ached. The pulse in her pussy was like a screaming in her cells. She started to feel dizzy again. Anchorless.
Elizabeth was smiling at her.
“Everything’s perfect,” she said. “You can untie me now.
