Chapter Six - Charlotte
971 Words
Chapter Six - Charlotte
My volcanic core convulses, ejecting the vibe into my Master’s waiting hand. Through my searing climax, I hear him laugh before he rams his fingers into me, plunging deep, hand-f*****g my clutching, clenching cunt.
Richard’s voice, “How’s she doing?”
“About a Richter seven or eight, I’d say.” Then, shifting to knead at my g-spot… “Let’s try for a nine.”
I buck and would drop back to hands and knees, but my Master loops an arm around my waist, pulling me in tight, restraining me as he rubs at my inner walls, ruthlessly drawing out my ecstasy, my agony, my glory and the gurgling wail which is the only sound I can make through my shackled jaws.
Too much…
Too much.
Waving my arm, trying to slap down on the bed, I can’t reach the mattress. Instead, I catch my Master’s thigh, thumping down. It’s clumsy, not what I intended, but he immediately withdraws his hand and unclips the clamp from my tortured-ecstatic clit.
The release is excruciating and unbidden, another scream emerges from my throat. But taking me in his arms, my Master supports me as I drop limply back against him, lungs pumping, heart hammering.
He kisses my cheek, takes hold of my wrist. “Your face, Charlotte, is a good match for your hair,” he murmurs.
Peeling my eyes open, he’s right. In the mirrors, I’m flaming. Not just my face. Breasts, belly and thighs, my skin is brilliantly scarlet. His fingers still on my wrist, it dawns on me he’s checking my pulse.
After a moment, he releases my hand. “You’re fine, Charlotte. Tell me. When you slapped down then, were you amber or red? Do you need to be released? Slap once for amber, twice for red. Catch your breath if you need to.”
I inhale…
And again…
… then slap down. Once.
He kisses my cheek again. “Good girl. It’s time for you to pleasure your other Master for the evening. Richard, where do you want her?”
“Kneeling on the floor please, James. By the side of the bed.” I’m a bit wobbly, but with my Master guiding me down from one side, Michael helping at the other, I find myself face-to-groin with Richard and his massively erect c**k. Purplish now, veins bulge blue. The head is glossy, seeping precum.
He towers over me. “Can you handle a deep throat, Charlotte?”
Michael speaks for me. “It's not something we've done often, Richard. I’m not sure James has ever done that with her.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I understand.” Richard palms my cheek. “Are you happy to try, Charlotte? You can support yourself on the bed. If you slap the mattress, I'll withdraw immediately.”
I want to swallow. I can’t. I settle for drooling and nodding.
Breathe...
Again...
Richard cups the back of my skull, his hold on my head supportive rather than restraining. “The gag looks good on you, Charlotte. Perhaps one time Michael and I will share you and Elizabeth together, your mouths and throats presented like that.”
He guides himself one-handedly. There’s no nudging at my lips. No persuasion or seduction. My gaping mouth presents as wide a target as he could wish. Huge, hot, hard and soft together, oozing salty-sweet, his cockhead slides over my tongue, presses inward.
As it meets the back of my throat, resisting my urge to gag, I force myself to relax, will my throat to open for him.
Richard eases forward…
… then back again… “Charlotte, breathe.”
In…
Out…
“Again. Breathe.”
His body pierces mine, inch by swollen inch, sinking into me. My mouth is filled, my tongue pressed flat. Saliva and tears stream. My nose waters.
Deeper he penetrates, and yet more deeply. The pressure on my throat is intense, but the pain is my gift to him. This man, who has helped me so much, given me so much. And as he moves, easing back and forth, as I relax, the discomfort retreats.
Penetrating me completely now, Richard groans. His fingernails clutch into my scalp, pinpricks of pain, a counterpoint to the softness of his ball-sac pressed to my chin, the fuzz of hair at my face. His breathing is loud and laboured. A trickle of sweat down his belly adds a briny tang to the musk of his groin as he fathoms me.
With a grunt and a loud exhalation, Richard jolts forward, fingers locking around my head, locking me to him as he Comes, pulsing deep into me.
But now, unmoving, Richard’s shaft plugs my airways. I can't swallow. Can't breathe. Something buzzes, almost louder than the banging of my heartbeat, the hammering pulse behind my ears.
It's too much.
Too much.
My vision blackening at the edges, I slap the bed. And again.
And again.
But Richard, still in mid-climax, is already pulling out. Deep inside as he is, it takes a few moments to withdraw his long c**k. Eternal-brief seconds pass before I am released. c*m pulses hot and sweet over my tongue, and as he exits completely, spatters over my face and neck.
I drop to my hands, coughing and choking, clearing my airways. Hands lift me from all sides, depositing me to sit on the bed. Fingers work at the strap holding the gag in place, release the curb between my teeth.
My Master sits to one side, patting between my shoulder blades.
“Charlotte?” Richard sounds contrite. “Charlotte, have I hurt you?”
“I'm fine.” I cough again, then massage my mercifully freed jaw, working circles into the muscles with my fingertips. “Really, I'm fine.”
Michael presses a damp cloth into my hand, and I wipe my face and swollen eyes and lips, free of c*m and spit and snot and tears, then see I need to clean my chest and breasts.
Feeling foolish now, I sit up. A couple of deep lungfuls of air, and my head clears. Michael gives me a glass of water.
Fingers pinch at my chin, steering me inexorably to my Master's face. He stares at me for a moment. “You’re fine.” Then in dry tones. “You need another shower, Charlotte.”
“Yes, Master.”
*****
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