Buying Charlotte

Chapter 7: The Virgin Sold, Part 2, Who Is My Master?

He is a businessman, working abroad quite a lot and travelling between t´he States´ and Europe. Married previously, but now divorced and, after the failure of his marriage, no longer wishing to be ´tied´. However, he does enjoy a life of s****l adventure - which is, of course, where I come in.

“Have there been others? Before me I mean? Have you done this before?"

He scratches his nose. “I suppose that´s a natural question. No, I haven´t done this before: literally buying a woman." He leans forward, taking my hand. “You are unique in that way Charlotte, and in other ways too I think."

“I´m not sure what you mean?"

“Very few women, especially a young woman like you, would have had the sheer nerve to do what you have done. I admire you for it...and now, he stretches and yawns. “We have an appointment with Michael. Shall we go?"

An hour or so later, back at the hotel, Michael is waiting for us in the lobby. Standing as he sees us arrive, he smiles. “Hello, James. Good evening Charlotte. You had a good day I hope." He looks good, wearing a clean white linen shirt with well-cut jeans and polished shoes.

“Yes, lovely," I squeak, trying to get my voice under control. In only a little while, I am expected to be having s*x together with these two men.

Up in the apartment, my Master waves me through to the bathroom. “You will find some clothes in there that I would like you to wear."

The ´clothes´ turn out to be minimalist, to say the least: stockings, a heavy collar-type necklace, and the lightest of sheer robes, quite transparent and revealing my lack of underwear of any kind. I put on some makeup, then try to put my hair up. It is uncooperative, tangling into knots every time I try to pin it high, so, giving it up as a bad job, I brush it out and let it settle down into a red cloud around me, standing out and crackling with static.

Drawing the diaphanous wrap around me like armour, heart pounding, I step back into the lounge, dimly lit, where the two men are waiting for me, standing, talking quietly together, drinking wine.

As I step through the door, they turn as one, both smiling, and my Master offering me a glass. “Relax a little Charlotte. You look beautiful. Come join us. Let us look at you."

Sipping the wine, I catch sight of myself in a mirror. A stranger looks back at me, dark-eyed, red-lipped, with a deep bronze collar at the throat, flickering bright in the candle gleam, and wearing only gossamer silk and a cloud of copper-red hair.

The stranger is indeed lovely.

My Master stands behind me in the reflection, Michael to his side. “Look at yourself Charlotte. Don´t you think you are beautiful? Imagine how I feel, having you here. How Michael feels."

He and Michael each take me by an arm. I think they are leading me to the same bedroom as before, but no, this is another room, smaller, much smaller. Once again, the lights are low, candlelight only. There is little in here except the bed, centred between mirrored walls. Mirrors surround us from all sides. I see myself, Michael and my Master, reflected a hundred times around us in the light of a thousand ghostly candles.

The two men position me between them, standing me on a large thick rug in the centre of the beautifully polished hardwood floor.

My Master pulls me gently to him, Michael standing behind me, his hands resting on my hips. He kisses me softly on the lips, then turns me to face Michael, who also kisses me, more fully, open-mouthed. In the mirrors, I see him look to my Master over my shoulder. Do they have some sort of code? Some unwritten script?

“Watch yourself," murmurs my Master. “And us. Watch yourself in the mirrors. See what we are doing to you. Watch what you do to us."

My Master is holding me at the waist while Michael unties the wrap. As it falls loose from my shoulders, hands slide it away from me, down to the floor. Standing naked between the two men, both sets of hands explore me.

My Master reaches around in front of me, cupping my breasts from behind, pushing them in and up, displaying them to Michael, who bends and suckles, first one, then the other. His hands are stroking my belly, my hips, questing south to my thighs. In the mirrors, his head moves against me, dark hair ruffled slightly by the movement.

Behind me, through the fabric of clothes, the rising hardness of an erection presses to my back before, abruptly, disappearing as my Master moves away from me.

I try to turn, to see where he has gone, but Michael holds me still and there is the sound of a chair scraping over the wooden floor.

Michael dropping to his knees, my Master seats himself to one side of us, sitting, head propped on one hand, his pupils wide and dark in the glimmer-light as he watches us.

“Charlotte," he says. “Turn a little. I want to see you."

Obediently, I turn, Michael following me from below. “Good girl. Now play with your n*****s. Pinch them and roll them. Get them hard for me."

Again, I obey, but with difficulty, as I am being distracted by Michael´s parting of my p***y lips with his fingers, his fingertip exploration inward, and the heat of his breath over my thighs. I am already wet as his fingers slide in, then thrust sharply upwards and...and...what?

Gasping, I stagger, an exquisite sensation piercing upwards through me. “What...? How...?" I don´t know how to frame the question.

Michael saves me the trouble, grinning as he pulls back to look up at me. “It´s your G-spot Charlotte. I love making women jump that way, more so when they don´t expect it." He watches my face, his fingers insistently pushing and sliding against my inner walls. Self-control failing, my knees begin to buckle and I flail out, seizing him by the shoulders to keep my balance. “That´s okay Charlotte," he says. “Lean on me. Let´s get you nice and liquid before James and I f**k you."

He is succeeding. His hand is slippery with my p***y juices, and I can hear a sort of suction as his fingers work my inner wall. Staggering again as his thumb joins the party, flicking against my clit, I gasp and buck, struggling now to stay upright.

“Time to get you off your feet girl, I think," he says. “What do you reckon, James?"

“Couldn´t agree more." And I am swept up by two pairs of arms, deposited on the bed and pulled upright, but on my knees.

Kneeling on the bed, I am sandwiched. My Master, close behind me, hooks his arms under mine, pulling me backwards, and supporting me against his chest. His hands slip down over my belly, through curls, to my p***y lips, fingers parting me, exposing my clit and cunt to Michael, displaying me. “Open your legs further," he whispers to me, his face close to mine, skin hot against me, fragrant with sweat and wine.