Sophie & The Society

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

The next morning they were up early. Roberto had to fly to Frankfurt for three days of meetings. Sophie took the chance of an early start at the office. At nine as she sat at her desk there was a call.

“Anthony,” said a voice.

“Yes,” she answered. “How are you?”

“Lunch tomorrow,” he said. “Then take the afternoon off.”

For all her vows and the satisfaction of obedience to Roberto, she still felt resentment when summoned by the Members in such peremptory terms. Arrogant men, she thought. She toyed with the idea of resistance, of answering back or even of downright refusal. But the consequences might be more severe than she could cope with.

“All right,” she answered. “Where do I meet you?”

She strode into the China Flower Restaurant at one p.m. the next day. She thought it might be amusing to wear a Chinese dress she’d once bought in Hong Kong. It was cut high to the throat, slit up the thigh, and tight across the bust, and very tight and short in the skirt, so short she had to go barelegged. Under the dress she wore a sheer pair of Calvin Kline white knickers, semi-transparent, with a matching bra.

She’d been to the China Flower once before, on a special night with Roberto. It claimed, quite blatantly, to be the most expensive Chinese restaurant in Europe. Well, she wouldn’t be the one paying. They had fragrant roast lamb, Peking duck with aromatic sauce, oyster rolls and thousand petal vegetables. Sophie drank a single glass of chilled rosé. Anthony asked her about her job. He was knowledgeable about the latest dedicated systems in the field of financial information, and they talked animatedly about the markets. But at two-thirty he looked at his watch and announced they would now go to his apartment. They took their taxi ride in silence. When put his hand on her thigh she could feel its warmth through the thin material of her skirt. Then he moved it down to touch the bare skin of her knee.

When they got to Anthony’s apartment he offered her Chinese tea. While the tea brewed he took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. Quickly he removed her few clothes. He caught both her hands and held them while he looked at her naked body.

“Stand there till I return,” he said.

He came back with the tea and poured some for her. He set in it on a small wooden table beside the bed, which was a simple futon, set upon a wooden base and covered in a red cotton mattress. He told her to sit down with her legs crossed in front of her. He stripped off his clothes and seated himself opposite her. She saw that his c**k was half-erect, just emerging from a mass of thick black curls.

He leaned forward and placed a hand across her forehead. His touch felt cool.

“Breathe in slowly.”

She felt her chest rise as she took in air. She was aware of her n*****s, hard little beads perched on the tip of her breasts.

“As you breathe out, say “ah”, and feel the air pass through your throat.”

She felt a little self-conscious, but it was pleasing to feel the vibration of her vocal chords against his hand, still held against her head.

“Repeat it.” She did so.

“I was in Japan for two years,” he said. “I became interested in oriental s****l disciplines. I studied with many masters of the Tantric way.”

He took his hand away from her head. “Lie down, on your stomach.” She stretched out, resting her head on her hands, spreading her legs slightly.

“I will show you the way of shiatsu.” He placed his two hands on the back of her neck and began to exert pressure. At first it felt rough, as if he were trying to hurt her.

“Relax into it,” he said. “Don’t fight it. Go where it is going.”

She tried to do as he said. After a while the pressure changed from being harsh. She felt as if energy was going into her. She let her body spread, allowing his hands to channel his force into her. He began to intone a low chant. At first she had an urge to giggle, but soon she found the sound of him infusing into her body. He moved his hands to her shoulders. She felt her back widen and lengthen as he pressed against her. Then he moved his hands again, this time pushing his fingers into the flesh on either side of her spine, digging deep into the tightly stressed muscle. She felt it soften and relax. It was so different from other massages she had enjoyed. There was no soft friction over her skin; no smooth touch as hands spread oil across her body. Instead there was a magic energy, a tingling that started from his fingertips and penetrated down into the secret centres of her body. His hands now were on her buttocks. He gripped them firmly and moved his hands in a circle, all the muscles in her bottom being pulled and stretched as his hands revolved. She felt the energy spreading outwards, making its way slowly over her whole body, even into her fingertips and toes. Then his hands moved down her thighs, and took hold of her feet. He squeezed her feet in the palms of his hands, then shifted position slightly to push his fingers hard into the soft tissue in the middle of the foot. Usually she was very ticklish on her feet, but now she had no urge to giggle. Instead she felt extraordinary sensations arising in all parts of her body. Deep in her solar plexus there was a tingling, and on the top of her skull a sensation as if her hair were being lifted by electricity.

“Roll over on to your back,” he said.

She lay quite naked and open, looking up at him. He sat astride her. She could feel that his c**k was at least partly erect as he leaned down on her. He took her breasts in his hands, squeezing them slowly and gently, pulling them round in a circular motion. Then he rested his hands on her torso while he took each of her n*****s between his fingers. He pulled on them, lifting them upwards and outwards. She was afraid he would hurt her and she lifted her chest upwards.

“No,” he said. “I promise I won’t hurt. It’s just a stretching exercise.”

She relaxed back and he continued pulling. At a certain point she grunted, fearful again that he was about to cause her pain. He relented and released her. Her breasts tingled deliciously. He moved his hands down on to her stomach. He pressed down firmly on the big muscle down the centre. She felt his energy going into her belly, and then down lower. He moved his hands so that now they were pressing on her pubic bone. A feeling of warmth and strength spread into her vulva. She could feel her v****a opening, it seemed as if its lips were swelling. The perineum between her v****a and her anus grew soft; the muscles that usually kept it tight and tense relaxed. Her anus too felt as if it was expanding, opening like the soft pink mouth of a sea anemone. Her mind now was utterly empty, she was conscious only of her feelings of wholeness, of an energy spreading a sense of well being into her vitals. The pressure on her pubis grew and he moved his hands in a circle again. She began to feel a new sensation, one she had no prior experience of and could find no exact word for. It was as if a tide was rising in her, as if she were a tree with the sap rising. It rose and rose and spread right over her. She felt as if she were swooning, her body falling through space till it fell gently to ground. He took his hands away and she looked at him.

“What was that?” she asked. “I felt something I haven’t felt before.”

“Did you come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But not like I usually do.”

Roberto had once told Sophie she came like a man, with violent pelvic convulsions as if she were expelling something from her body, as the man ejects his sperm. And after she’d come she always felt satisfied, like a man did, she didn’t want to go on and on. He’d told her how some women came quite differently, instead of convulsions it was more like a ripple effect, which kept sweeping over them. They seemed able to keep this sensation going almost indefinitely. Subsequently Sophie had spoken to one or two friends and confirmed that it was indeed the case that women’s orgasms could vary greatly. Now she’d had something like the other kind, quite different from the violent contractions she usually experienced.

Anthony pulled her up into a sitting position, her legs parted, her thighs hooked over his. Lifting her up slightly, he put his c**k so that it rested just at the opening of her s*x. Keeping it there, he leaned forward and kissed her, then put his hand on the top of her head. He pushed down while telling her to push up. Then little by little he pushed his c**k into her, until it was buried up to the hilt. Once he was there he kept quite still, holding his hands around her neck to keep her upright. Then slowly he let her fall back till she was resting on the mattress, her legs around him. Still he did not move inside her. He put his hands on the top of her feet and sat quite still. She could feel his c**k rigid inside her; she could even feel, she thought, the blood pulsing inside it. Usually she would have been impatient by now for stimulation, she would have wanted him to f**k her. But she felt quite calm and complete. Her body seemed to hum from the echoes of the waves that had risen over her.

They stayed that way for maybe half an hour, until she began to get stiff and had to change position. He took his c**k from out of her.

“Don’t you want to come?” she said.

“I don’t very often,” he said. “It’s part of the training. Some Tantric masters don’t ejaculate more than once every five years, though they may have intercourse twice a week. After a while you get charged up with energy. Just like a battery.”

“Isn’t it bad to keep it in?”

“We don’t think so,” he replied. “We think there is more benefit in evacuating the mind than the genitals. There are even reputed to be some masters who can come and then immediately suck the ejaculate back up inside themselves.”

“Oh, come on,” Sophie laughed. “You don’t believe that?”

“There are many things which people practice in their s*x lives which others find incredible. Don’t you think many would be surprised that you voluntarily renounce your right to choose your s****l partners? Or that you derive pleasure from being beaten?”

“Do I?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“There are marks across your buttocks,” he said. “I assume you consented that they should be made?”

“Do you do that?”

“No, not beating. Though there are certain Tantric exercises which involve a submission to pain. But they are things you do to yourself, not to others.”

“That sounds intriguing. Will you show me?”

“One day, perhaps. I think the s*x act is complete for today. You can get dressed.”

As she put her clothes on she turned to him and said, “Who is your sponsored Subject in the Society? Does she live here?”

“No, she is Japanese. She lives in Tokyo. She’s called Miko.”

“You can’t see her very often.”

“No, but we communicate much through the Internet. We send each other videos and other forms of virtual reality. And she sends me physical evidences of herself.”

“What do you mean?” Sophie was intrigued.

“Bodily secretions. A pair of her pants she impregnated with the juice from her v****a as she performed her s****l exercises. She packed them in Clingfilm so they would be still moist when they arrived. She sends me her nail clippings, locks of her pubic hair. She spat into a tissue and sent me that. One package contained a solitary eyelash. One night she cried because she missed me and she put her teardrops into a tiny glass phial. And she has promised to send me a small bottle of her urine.”

Sophie was impressed. “Few lovers who sleep every night together are so intimate as that,” she said.

Anthony kissed her affectionately at the door. “I shall send for you again.”