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Chapter Eight
My stomach quickly felt hollow and started to fill with butterflies as I felt Katarina’s feminine weight pressing down. Goosebumps became evident on my bare arms as Katarina extended them up to the headboard.
“Here are the anchor points” Katarina said. The butterflies folded their wings.
“Pay attention to how I tie this.” Katarina recovered 1/4 inch black nylon rope which was anchored to the corner of the headboard. She carefully bound my left wrist with what she called an “inline single column tie.” Katarina repeated the knotting process several times before she said “now your turn.”
We switched positions. I was now straddling my instructor. I felt her slim toned abdomen between my thighs. For the first time, I noticed her small breasts. In all, she had the body of a dancer.
Katarina was incredibly patient laying beneath me. She must have coached me through forty attempts before we switched to her right arm.
“Ok I think you got it.” “Do you feel comfortable?”
I replied “yes” and shifted my weight off her chest and onto my butt.
“Take this home to practice.” Katarina took a pair of scissors from the end table and snipped a length of rope. “Don’t worry.” “I will replace it before you get here.”
Katarina and I walked back through the garden to the main house. My hands fiddled with the rope as my mind replayed the image of her softly rising and falling chest. I mused on how little I knew about her.
“So I’ll see you Wednesday?” Katarina confirmed as I broke from my daydream.
“Oh … oh yes.” I bashfully caught up with the conversation. Katarina had offered to take me to her favorite seamstress. She applauded my home crafted mask but knew my anonymity required something more secure.
Between the drive to my car and the ride home, it was late before I entered my kitchen.
“ I thought you said lunch,” my husband teased as he acknowledged my absence.
“Well, you know… we had a few drinks and I guess we just got lost in the moment.” I replied. I had once appreciated my husband’s autonomy. After all, that slight jest was the extent of his chastisement for my being MIA through dinnertime. But now, I couldn’t help but question the motive behind his independence. Did he harbor some longing to be free? Certainly his presence at the Ball was indicative of this.
With this on my mind, I walked upstairs and placed the nylon rope in the box hidden beneath my bed. I tried to fall asleep knowing it would be another hour or so before my husband finally snuck into bed. I couldn’t. My heart-rate rose as if energized by the box beneath me. I reached down, pulled out the rope and practiced on a rolled t-shirt until I had the knot mastered.
Chapter Nine
Wednesday morning, I met Katarina in her driveway. She insisted that we be driven. She was eager to discuss the outfit I had envisioned and described to her. She also wanted to fill me in on her half of the ploy.
Over the last few days, Katarina had contacted my husband with an invitation for a special lunch at the estate. He was given a set of specific instructions and told that his future admittance depended on him following every command to a T.
When we arrived at the boutique, Katarina greeted the seamstress in French. After a few sentences, she walked to the back room and reappeared with a garment bag.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I had Celia get started on the dress you described.” Katarina unzipped the bag and pulled out a knee length black satin dress. It was nearly identical to what I had envisioned. The front of the dress was cut in a sweetheart style, though thin lace lace brought the illusion neckline to my collarbone. The dress was sleeveless. More lace exposed the sides and back.
Celia helped me into the dress in front of angled mirrors. It fit well but not perfect. The seamstress took just a few measurements for refinement.
From my waist to the hem, Katarina ran the skirt of the dress through her fingers. She reached back into the bag and handed me two velvet elbow length evening gloves. “My touch” she winked.
Celia returned and helped me unzip the dress. For longer than I would have liked, I stood on the platform in just my simple bra and panties. Celia handed me my jeans and gestured me over to a chair.
As I stepped shirtless into the jeans, Katarina removed the mask from my bag and handed it to Celia for inspection. For the next half-hour, I sat cold, shirtless, and still as Celia carefully crafted a mold of my face.
The following Wednesday, I returned to Celia’s alone for the final fitting of my dress. Katarina was otherwise engaged. If the fit of the dress was any indication of Celia’s crafting skill, I was confident the mask would rest effortlessly on my face. To my dismay, it wasn’t yet ready.
Friday came, and I received a message from Katarina. “Is your husband home?”
“Not anymore.” I responded. True to his routine. My husband told me he was flying out early to prepare for the weekend’s out-of-state meeting. He ran a successful accounting consultancy firm, so I’m sure his lie was not too far off course. If only he knew I was no longer the oblivious housewife he presumed.
“Good. I’m sending a courier.” Katarina replied. With one day until showtime, this could only mean the custom mask was finally ready.
Chapter Ten
Katarina’s instructions to the Roman were simple. “Arrive at 10:00 am. Follow the valet to the guest house where brunch was spread out for your sole nourishment. Feast and hydrate until 11:00. Follow the prescribed stretch/conditioning routine from 11:00 – 11:20. Use the restroom at least once between 11:20 and 11:30. Leave the front door ajar. Remove your clothes, leaving on only your briefs. Don your mask at 11:30 and head up the stairs. Take the blindfold off the bed and wrap it securely around your mask. Lay on your back and rest until woken. NEVER speak while you are in the house. “
I waited for Katarina in the garden at 11:45. I was wearing the black dress and gloves. My brunette hair was once again styled in a tight elegant bun. The new velvet cheetah print mask adhered effortlessly to the contours or my face; concealing more with less. To ensure anonymity a thick band provided added security. At Katarina’s suggestion, I wore stilettos.
My stomach churned with anticipation. Small electric impulses radiated from my core to the point of near-pain. After a few minutes, the tension broke when Katarina appeared at the iron gate. She was wearing slip-on flats, a scarlet sheath cut dress that hugged her figure, and an awe inspiring silver laced mask that emulated the peaks of a crown. While regal, the points were cut in such a way that suggested ungodly wickedness.
I followed Katarina’s hips as they led me inside. The Roman appeared to follow Katarina’s instructions with soldierly discipline. The door was ajar allowing silent entry. A navy blazer hung from the wall above his folded pants and white collared shirt. The spread of meats and bread was half consumed and the yoga mat had been disturbed from its original storage place. Katarina slipped off her flats and allowed me to take the lead up the stairs.
While the two of us entered the second floor, the only sound that could be heard was the encroaching clack of my heels on the hardwood. My chest felt flush and the butterflies unfurled their wings in my stomach. A sensation I’ve felt more times this month than in my entire life.
The Roman lifted his upper body and faced the direction of my steps. Half his bodyweight supported by cut arms, I marveled at the definition in his shoulders. Around the house this man was nearly invisible. Here, he sat like a god.
I made my way closer to the bed. Katarina quietly took a seat in an armchair. I climbed onto the linen stage from the direction of the footboard. With my heels still on, I crawled closer to the Roman. When I nearly reached his groin… I stopped. His blindfolded head cocked inquisitively. I pushed the Roman onto his back, straddled him, and extended his arms toward the headboard just as Katarina had done to me.
I reached down to my right and grabbed the 1/4in. nylon rope. The Roman seized his arm momentarily as the end touched his forearm. Realizing the folly in this action, the Roman returned his arm and submitted to my control.
I tied the first knot easily. I reached for the second rope, only now remembering that it had been cut. I reached a little further and found that the replacement was there. It was silly for me to think that the curator would deliver anything less than perfection. I tied the second knot. I practiced less on the left and it had taken me a moment or two longer than the first. A slight imperceptible to the Roman but pronounced enough to catch the keen eye of my instructor.
I placed both hands down on the Roman’s pectoral muscles. His chest was hairier than I remembered but then again it had been a while since were intimate. As I was taking this moment in, Katarina silently passed on my left. She inspected the second knot, first visually, then with her hand. She tightened a loose loop. The Roman’s head turned abruptly towards the previously undetected spectator.
I forcefully slapped his face back to center. I understood that Katarina’s presence was never intended to be known. My less than perfect performance prompted her introduction, and it was an impurity that I alone should sanitize.
Satisfied, Katarina returned to her chair. With the Roman firmly secure, I removed his briefs and exposed his hard cock. It was nothing special, and certainly nothing I hadn’t seen before. If his cock left anything to desire, he made up for it with his chiseled physique.
For roughly twenty-five minutes straight, I unloaded the guilt I carried from the night of the Ball by giving the Roman a slow, methodical, and uninterrupted blowjob. After a few velvet strokes, I removed my gloves so that I could use both my hands and mouth. I kept his dick sufficiently lubricated with spit as I twisted my hand up his shaft while simultaneously working my lips down from the head.
I couldn’t really use both hands but I feigned the ability to do so. On the other hand, I could easily deep throat him and did so with pleasure. I glanced up at Katarina who nodded with approval and with a few tight strokes, I permitted the Roman to cum pathetically onto his stomach.
I hopped off the bed without cleaning him up. Im sure he heard the clack of my heals fade down the stairs as Katarina and I took our first break. If only I could tell him that that was the last orgasm he would experience today.
Chapter Eleven
My husband, the Roman, remained still on the bed; his cum slowly drying on his toned lower abdomen. When Katarina and I reached the bottom of the staircase, I started to talk with giddy excitement. Katarina quickly placed her index finger to my lips and gestured to the door.
The two of us walked into the Cottage’s courtyard and to a shabby wrought-iron garden table. We sat cater-corner on the set’s teal blue chairs. Neither of us spoke for a good three minutes as we absorbed the afternoon sun.
“I think he enjoyed himself.” Katarina said. “You can stop feeling guilty now.”
“Yes … yes, I think he did.” I replied. “And I’m going to make him pay for that.” I carried on in slight laughter.
I felt eternally grateful for Katarina welcoming me into this world and for arranging this opportunity. On our walk the other day, she had explained to me the lengthy process she normally takes to vet her guests. There were several things she required before a guest could attend one of her events. None of which she had asked of me.
Katarina’s invitees all had to answer a list of questions which would be used to conduct a thorough background check. They all had to execute consent forms and have them notarized at one of several locations she specified. Among other things, this form instructed prospective guests of two safety phrases: “the Dove,” for when one sought momentary reprieve, and “the Raven” for when one sought a complete cessation of the activity.” Each member was also required to submit records of periodic STI testing and sign a non-disclosure agreement. Failure to follow any of the Estate’s rules would result in a permanent blacklisting.
Part of me felt like I owed Katarina for her hospitality. “How can I repay you for this?” I asked. “When we go back in there do you want to …” I hesitantly implied the offer for Katerina to fuck my husband.
As I lingered in my sentence, Katarina kindly interjected, “Not in that way.”
Chapter Twelve
After several more minutes in the sun, Katarina and I returned to the Cottage. I put on the velvet gloves as Katarina grabbed me a glass of water from the kitchen. She took a sip and handed it to me to finish. Her rosewood lipstick stained the glass.
I led the way up the staircase and into the bedchamber. The blindfolded Roman stirred as he heard the melody of my stilettos grow closer. Like a caesura, I abruptly stopped a foot away from the bed. For a minute, I stood there silently allowing the suspense to reset.
I reached out allowing the first thing the Roman felt to be my velvet hand delicately cupping his scrotum. His slightly engorged penis shifted. I massaged his testicles and the base of his shaft until he became erect. With my wrist inverted, I ran the length of my fingers up his shaft before giving five rhythmic strokes.
I placed one of the thick pillows under the Roman’s shoulder blades. His neck was now elevated and supported while his arms remained anchored to both sides of the headboard. I slid my black lace bikini cut underwear to the floor. The heavy wooden bed creaked as I positioned myself atop the Roman’s stomach. His mouth opened slightly as he felt the warmth of my vagina on his cool skin.
I reached behind my back and stroked the Roman’s cock as I gazed intently at his face searching for signs of pleasure. I felt his diaphragm rise and fall between my hips as he drew longer breaths. I lifted my hips slightly and my velvet hand placed the tip of the Roman’s head inside my labia. I worked myself down his shaft; the intensity of the moment providing natural lubrication.
I rolled my hips and angled his cock in such a way that stimulated my clit. I did this three or four times before I glanced at Katarina. This round, she had taken position to the left of the bed. She sat comfortably along a grey chaise lounge, her legs extended, and bare feet exposed. She nodded, signaling me to begin the next phase of her scheme. I picked up the pace of my riding and watched as the Roman bit down on his lower lip. I leaned forward and removed the blindfold from around his mask.
Chapter Thirteen
I leaned back while continuing to roll my hips. The Roman’s eyes adjusted to the daylight. He had been blindfolded for over an hour now. As his eyes acclimated, I perfected my posture, straddling him with a straight back. I peered directly into his face as his eyes took a final blink.
I felt the Roman’s entire body jolt as he peered up at the black cheetah print mask. He undoubtedly recognized me as his tormentor from the night of the ball. I watched as the Roman wriggled his wrists to grab hold of the slack in the nylon tie-downs. Pulling on the rope, the Roman inched back toward the headboard and was able to achieve a slightly greater incline. Despite this maneuver, I still maintained a dominating straddle.
Peering eye to eye with the Roman, I gripped his solid lats, and thrust my hips with greater force than before. The bed creaked and the headboard clacked against the wall. I moved my left hand to the mound of his shoulder and thrust for a second and third time. On the fourth, I felt resistance as he lifted his hips to meet mine. His timing was perfect. I felt the full length of his cock inside me.
Maintaining the same degree of force, I quickened the pace of my thrusts. The banging headboard and creaking bedframe echoed our perfect rhythm. My hands were now firmly pressed against the headboard. We were both motivated by levels of hate. I sought to punish him for stepping out. He sought revenge for the deprivation he endured while I fucked the ever-living shit out of two younger gentlemen.
The Roman’s athletic build proved a formidable opponent. I soon became exhausted by the vehement thrusting. I walked myself back into a vertical straddle. Beads of sweat transferred from his chest through my velvet gloves.
I continued to roll my hips as I had done before. I failed to hear his periodic moans as I closed my eyelids. I found myself back on top of the executive desk the night of the ball. I was unmasked looking face to face with the young bull of a stud. His thick cock was deep inside me and his hands caressed my breasts. For the first time, I faintly recalled a tattoo on the man’s shoulder. It was a figure riding atop a pale horse.
Hands now pressed against my chest, I snapped back to the moment when I sensed Katarina approach the bed. The Roman was moaning and near orgasm. Katarina reached out and forcibly placed my balled-up panties in his mouth. I abruptly stopped thrusting and dismounted. Thankfully, Katarina intervened at the right moment. The Roman’s cock pulsed once but settled without ejaculating. I retied the blindfold and followed Katarina downstairs and out to the courtyard.
Katarina sat me down at the iron table and firmly commanded “Don’t lose sight of your objective. You cannot allow yourself to get caught up in your own pleasure. Yes, sure as hell enjoy the experience. But edging requires tremendous focus if you want to truly find the edge. Focus too much on yourself and you will drive him right off the cliff.”
“I’m sorry.” I replied. I started to explain how I could not help but think of the night of the ball when Katarina cut me off.
“No excuses.” She interrupted.
Chapter Fourteen
It was late in the afternoon when Katarina and I stood in the bedchamber ready to begin round 3. The Roman laid still on the bed while I signaled for Katarina to unzip the back of my dress. She did so slowly then worked the top off my shoulders. From my waist, she pulled the dress down past my garter belt and onto the floor. My back stood before her. I unclipped my bra and tossed it on the floor. I pulled a few pins out of my bun and allowed my wavy brunette hair to fall to just above the curve of my butt. I was now only wearing stilettos and the lace garter belt which was attached to black thigh high stockings.
I approached the blindfolded Roman and repositioned him to a lower incline. He responded to my touch without rebellion. I grabbed hold of the top of the headboard and swung my right leg over his body. I now straddled his face. The Roman instinctively tilted his head back, relaxed his jaw, and began to delicately lick around my clitoris. I lowered myself slightly to increase pressure. Admittedly, the Roman’s mask proved cumbersome at times and it periodically irritated my pubic area as the Roman repositioned for air. Remembering Katarina’s lesson, I did not mind, as the Roman’s servient act was the important element of this exercise.
After a few minutes of this oral preparation, I straddled the Roman’s cock and lowered myself to the point where my bare breasts rested on his skin. I teased his ear. Blindfolded, I imagined he felt four sensations aside from the sound of the creaking bed; 1) the slow methodical riding of my vagina, 2) the soft touch of my natural breasts as my body moved back and forth on his torso, 3) the tickling of my tongue lightly tracing the contours of his ear, and 4) the feeling of warm air as I periodically breathed into his ear.
I took notice of the Roman gripping the white linen in his fists. When his forearms tensed, I eased off his cock and stood beside the bed. I took three pillows and stacked them behind the Roman. Without speaking, I guided him to fold his legs under his buttocks. Hands flat on the bed, his locked arms bore the weight of his upper body, which was now leaning back on an incline against the stack of pillows. I learned this position from Katarina during the last intermission.
I climbed back onto the bed and knelt away from the Roman. I lowered myself onto his fully exposed erection and leaned forward steadying myself with my hands flat on the bed. Katarina instructed that from this position, I had complete control over the rhythm and depth of penetration. With this in mind I began rocking back and forth on all fours.
Once I established a steady pace, I lifted my left hand from the bed and brushed the hair away from my face. I turned my head to the right and glanced at Katarina. She was lying on the chaise lounge staring intently. Her left leg was bent at the knee, her right was fully extended. Her bare foot pointed like a ballerina.
Katarina’s left hand was up her dress. She rubbed her clit while squeezing her breasts with her right hand. When we locked eyes, I began rocking back with greater zeal. Katarina reciprocated by pleasuring herself with greater intensity. A few moments later her back arched and her jaw dropped as she let out a restrained moan. I continued to rock back on the Roman, alternating between bouts of slight and deep penetration.
I was not entirely sure whether the Roman would near climax while sitting with his legs bent in this position. I dismounted and assisted the Roman with extending his legs. I guided the Roman so that his back sat vertically against the headboard. I removed his blindfold so that he could enjoy the view. Facing the footboard, I knelt over his legs and lowered myself onto his cock. Again, on all fours I rocked back achieving the deepest penetration possible. Periodically, I whipped my hair back and usually followed this gesture by increasing or decreasing tempo.
Katarina was no longer pleasuring herself. Sensing that the Roman was near orgasm she studied my methods to see if I had learned anything from our earlier conversation. I all but stopped my pace and rocked back with four intense thrusts. I watched the Roman’s toes curl and finally pulled away. The Roman’s head was tilted back, his cock pulsed twice and again stopped short of ejaculation.
Chapter Fifteen
Katarina arranged for the brunch spread to be replaced with a hearty dinner. While I waited outside, she untied the Roman and provided him with a second set of printed instructions that I had yet to see.
The Roman was to wait five minutes then head downstairs. He was to head outside and split several bundles of firewood. He was to use the remaining daylight to bath from an outdoor hose. He was provided a tin tub, soap, shampoo, and a sponge for this purpose. He was further instructed to finish dinner by 9:00 pm. At that point he was to light a fire in the second-floor chimney. He had to be laying on the bed naked with his mask and blindfold donned by 9:30. At no point was he permitted to relieve himself through masturbation.
Katarina guided me into the mansion at around 5:00 pm. She led me to an elegant guest room with an attached bathroom. We dined together at a table that was comically too long for just the two of us. Following the meal, Katarina excused herself stating that she had a matter to attend to. She welcomed me to freshen up and stated that she would come by around 8:45.
I walked the halls back to my guest room. But not before stopping at the Parlor. Now in evening light, the room evoked a greater sense of nostalgia. The empty decanter set, standing mirror, leather couches, ottoman and executive desk were all exactly as they were the night of the ball. I walked over to the desk and ran my fingers along its edges. I recalled the incredible sex I had with the tattooed stud who shall henceforth be remembered as the Horseman. With my pulse elevated, I closed the door and headed to freshen up.
The bathroom was simple but elegant. Its main feature was the large white claw-foot tub. I ran warm water from the copper faucet and undressed in the bedroom. I dimmed the bathroom light and entered the water. I immediately felt relaxed. I closed my eyes and drifted into daydream; my mind chaotically flipping between memories of the Horseman and the sight of Katarina pleasuring herself on the chaise lounge. I bit down on my pointer finger before tracing the contours of my torso down to my vagina.
I gently rubbed my clit in a counterclockwise manner as I re-imagined the night of the ball. Everything remained the same up to the point where I mounted the Horseman on the desk. I conjured up the feeling of his thick cock and our untempered passion. Only this time, I looked up from his gaze and toward a figure darkening the parlor door. There Katarina stood. The silver in her crown mask reflecting a minuscule amount of the incandescent light.
I nervously awoke from my dream; afraid I had let too much time pass. I wrapped a towel around my body and headed back into the bedroom. To my surprise, my dress was neatly folded on a chair and a paper wrapped garment was draped over the bed. I looked back through the bathroom door and toward the draining tub. Embarrassed, I pondered who had come and gone.
A small card sat atop the package. “Wear this!” it read in feminine handwriting. The short message was underlined. The first item was a short belted wrap dress. The color was burgundy. The second item was a set of similarly colored lingerie. The lingerie consisted of panties and a lace bustier with vertical piping that ran up either side. The center lace consisted of several rows of roses. The underwire cupping was opaque with a subtle rose print and thin straps ran suggestively up the neck. The bustier connected to matching thigh high stockings.
I had just finished tying the belted dress when Katarina entered. She had not changed from earlier. “Good, I was sure it would fit” she remarked.
Chapter Sixteen
Katarina and I walked through the garden to the cottage. As we neared, I saw the flickering light of a fire illuminate the second story. I was pleasantly delighted as the light fabric of my dress did nothing to repel the cold breeze that was looming out of the evening’s darkness.
Katarina and I passed through the iron gate. We opened the cottage door to the sight of a slender female leaning against the stairwell. She was dressed in a matching navy belted dress and I presumed similar lingerie to that which I was wearing.
I turned and backed out the door into the courtyard. Up until dinner, we had been following Katarina’s plan as discussed at lunch. While her scheme had not run into the evening, I assumed we were simply following the same path. Katarina never mentioned a third woman.
I could not tell you whether I felt jealously or anger. What I can say is that I felt betrayed. Katarina caught up to me as I paced out into the courtyard. “Look” she said. “I couldn’t be sure you would go along with this part of the plan.”
I wanted to get far away from the Estate. As far away as I could. I was speeding through an unfamiliar world and up until this point, the only thing I could rely on was my blind trust of Katarina. Though I wanted to leave and dash through the garden, I felt restrained by some intangible force, the kind of force that drives a dog to sit still despite slack in the bitch’s leash.
Chapter Seventeen
“Walk away and you will never be liberated.” Katarina said as she calmly closed with me in the courtyard.
“Liberated?” I replied sharply. “You know what I saw when I opened that door?” … “a marionette.” “I didn’t come here to trade one master for another.”
“Look” Katarina explained. “This was necessary. You think a blowjob will absolve you of your guilt? He is holding you back. The fact that you even felt remorse for the other evening shows you are not ready for this lifestyle. Trust me on this.”
The leash tightened. “Who is she.” I inquired.
Katarina explained that she stumbled upon Jessica a few months before she met me. She had come across a Reddit post where the 25 year old confessed that she had not had sex since she was 18 and was looking for guidance.
At 19, Jessica had been nearly raped while a freshman in college. Though she fought off her attacker, she fortified herself for years and struggled with intimacy as a result.
Katarina offered Jessica the chance to open herself back up in a controlled environment. She welcomed her to observe several events at the Estate and ultimately pitched her the plan presently in motion. Katarina perceived that both Jessica and I could benefit from this mutual experience.
My stomach knotted as I pictured my husband, the Roman, laying upstairs. The thought of offering him up to another women was a foreign concept, I barely contemplated it this afternoon. I only offered the notion to Katarina because I had a high confidence she would reject the idea.
On the other hand, I longed for the freedom I discovered in the Parlor. I knew that Katarina was right. So long as I remained envious of my husband, I would remain tethered to my former repressed self.
I walked back into the Cottage still debating the notion of serving my husband up to Jessica. I looked her over as she bashfully held onto her bluebird mask. Jessica was a petite dirty blonde. She was nearly 5ft, 1in. tall and must have weighed a mere 100lbs. I touched her cheek, noting her plump downward turned lips which had a pronounced Cupid’s bow. She had straight eyebrows and a heart shaped face that came to a delicate, yet prominent point.
“Do you remember where the scissors are?” Katarina whispered.
Jessica nodded affirmatively and donned her bluebird mask. Katarina began climbing the stairs first. I followed second and Jessica trailed. The Roman lifted his head has he heard us approach.
Chapter Eighteen
Katarina moved to the left of the bed and I to the right. We simultaneously anchored the Roman’s arms to the headboard. Jessica stood center by the footboard. Katarina removed the Roman’s blindfold and gestured for him to look center. Katarina then signaled for Jessica to untie her belted dress. She complied and it fell to the floor, her silhouette vibrant in the firelight. The Roman nodded in approval.
I felt a lump in my throat as I made my way passed Jessica and to the armchair. Katarina fell back effortlessly into her chaise lounge. A reluctant spectator, I sat at an oblique angle to the bed, my legs crossed and stomach tense.
Jessica hesitantly crawled from the footboard to the Roman’s groin. She knelt between his legs and leaned forward. Her O shaped butt looked remarkable in this position as it sat softly atop her heels.
Jessica grabbed the Roman’s cock and began to kiss it with unpracticed awkwardness. She fiddled with it in this way for a some time before Katarina rose from the lounge.
Katarina reached the bed in just a few seductive steps. She bent over at the waist, grabbed the Roman’s cock and placed it halfway down her mouth while staring intently in my direction. I uncrossed my legs.
She backed my husbands dick out of her mouth and licked the shaft while peering back at Jessica. She placed the Roman’s head to her lips and delicately licked around his urethra. She again plunged his cock into her mouth and bobbed several times, inching deeper each time. She backed off the Roman’s cock, making an audible “pop” as she pulled his head from her lips.
Katarina placed the Roman’s cock in Jessica’s hands and watched as her newest student attempted to emulate the master. Jessica was clumsy at first, but she now teased the Roman’s head delicately with her plump lips. She then plunged too deeply for her inexperience throat. She gagged and pulled back suddenly leaving a trail of saliva from her lips to the shaft.
Katarina quickly reassured her by guiding Jessica’s hand into a twisting motion up and down the Roman’s shaft. Reassured, Jessica sought to overcome her inexperience. She placed the Roman’s head back into her mouth and plunged five more times until she gagged again. The Roman let out a soft moan. She smiled as Katerina returned to the lounge.
I felt my chest begin to palpate as Jessica climbed atop my husband. With her panties still on, she positioned the Roman’s shaft horizontal between her labia. She teased back and forth as she built up the courage to allow penetration. Her soft panties stimulated the Roman. He bit his lip. Following this gesture, Jessica slid her underwear to the side and placed the Roman’s head an inch into her vagina.
She let out a short moan that sounded in agony. It’s origin was not pain from the penetration but agony from the soul. For too long she had denied herself this pleasure.
Chapter Nineteen
Jessica’s body relaxed and she lowered herself deeper onto the Roman’s cock. She reached the base of his shaft and then began to ride him with increasing fervor. It wasn’t long before she was moaning with each thrust. The liberating pleasure and the sound of the creaking bed overwhelmed her. She placed her hand over mouth and tried to contain her moaning. Her eyes were shut tight. Her body convulsed as she came uncontrollably on my husband’s cock.
Watching this act, I did not feel the anger or jealousy I thought I would. Rather, I found myself beyond aroused. At the same time, I wasn’t yet ready to reveal myself to my husband and enjoy a true cuckquean experience. I looked forward to that day, but right then, I took too much pleasure in my anonymity.
I felt a similar passion for Jessica, the girl who’s orgasm signaled a new chapter in my deviant lifestyle. I unbelted my own dress and walked the floor to where she sat straddling my husband. I embraced her flush face. She appeared slightly embarrassed and was still recovering from her orgasm. I pressed my lips to hers. Lost in ecstasy she reciprocated aggressively. I felt my lips begin to swell as I guided her off my husband.
His dick fell from her wet pussy. Staring up at him, I placed his cock in my mouth and tasted what remained of Jessica’s cum. Katarina placed another log or two on the fire indicating that the night was far from over.
Chapter Twenty
The reinvigorated fire increased the temperature of the room. Katarina returned from the fireplace and led me away from the bed. By the hand she guided me to the chaise lounge where she placed me on the side with the backrest. She then sat next to me as we watched Jessica slide off her panties and remount the Bed.
Jessica kissed the Roman from his neck down to his pelvis. He had been deprived of an orgasm for nearly twelve hours now. I am unsure how he refrained from cumming while her plump lips pressed against his skin.
Following Katarina’s suggestion, Jessica mounted the Roman in the sixty-nine position. As the Roman stimulated her clit, her vagina relaxed like a blooming flower. After sucking my husband off for few minutes, she righted herself and glanced at Katarina who nodded with approval.
Re-acclimated to the intimacy of a man, Jessica was ready to test the boundaries of her progress. She leaned forward and grabbed the scissors from the end table. My body tensed with curious anticipation.
The entire day had been dedicated to restraining the Roman and here we were sacrificing a lamb to the arena. How would he react to his freedom? Would he take revenge on Jessica for all that he had endured?
Chapter Twenty One
Jessica cut away the first rope. The Roman stretched his muscular forearm and outstretched shoulder. He then suddenly reached up and placed his hand around the back of Jessica’s neck. I watched as Katarina tensed.
The Roman eased his hand off the delicate flower and caressed her cheek. He pressed his thumb against her bottom lip and pulled it down. He traced his wet thumb across her cleavage before taking in the remaining contours of her body with his hand.
Jessica cut away the second restraint and removed the loose nylon from both wrists. Enjoying new mobility the Roman sat up straight. He placed both hands firmly on Jessica’s bubble butt before lifting her into position. She sat high on his hips and wrapped her legs around his back. With her arms around his neck, she pulled herself up and the Roman inserted himself.
I looked down my legs at Katarina who was was staring at the interlocked couple with lustful envy. I tried to suppress the fact that my husband had never fucked me as passionately as he was Jessica. I tried to focus on all the opportunity that my new unencumbered lifestyle would present. Katarina must have sensed my uneasiness. I soon felt her delicate hands unstrapping my heels.
As Jessica whimpered with pleasure, the Roman rose from the bed and the couple continued their grinding in the standing missionary position. Feeling Jessica at ease, the Roman pressed her back against the wall and began to fuck her with increased force. Her legs dangled as she now screamed in pleasure. “Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me.”
Almost simultaneously, I felt a shock up my left leg as Katarina began kissing the inside of my thigh. She kissed from my knee to my pelvic bone and I almost fainted from pleasure. I was dripping wet by the time she started to eat me out. Katarina was prone, my legs were over her shoulders; I couldn’t believe my master was serving me.
My eyes were rolling into the back of my head and I struggled to focus on my husband as he now had Jessica leaning up against the wall in standing doggy. The fire elongated their shadow. Over my heavy breathing, I heard the constant sound of her peachy ass slap against the Roman’s hips.
I looked down at Katarina between my thighs. She was Aphrodite at home in Cyprus. I wanted to grab her hair but was impeded by her mask. I settled for the cups of my bustier. From the corner of my eye, I could see the Roman standing over Jessica. She was now lying prone on the side of the bed. Her legs on the Roman’s shoulders as he dominated her.
Squeezing my breasts, my body tensed and curled. I raised my hips further into Katarina’s face. “Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit, oh shiiiiitttt.” I screamed while cumming on her tongue. At that moment the Roman abruptly pulled out of his sacrificial lamb. After hours of deprivation, he came across her stomach with such force that cum covered Jessica’s beautiful neck and jaw. With weak legs I walked across the floor. It had been forever since I tasted my husband cum.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/gr6lp1/the_estate_22_mmfcuckoldffffmcuckqueanfemdom