The Estate: Part Four – The Studio [MF][F][Voyeur]

[Part One](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/goy94e/the_parlor_fmm/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

[Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gp42hi/the_parlor_part_ii_interlude/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

[Part Three A](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gpls57/the_estate_part_iii_the_cottage_mfff/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

[Part Three B](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gqqh3w/the_estate_part_iii_the_cottage_continued/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

[Part Three C](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gr5xan/the_estate_part_iii_c_the_cottage_concluded/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

Part Four: The Studio

Chapter One

I licked my husband’s cum from Jessica’s neck and gratefully kissed her a few times before peering up at the Roman. In hindsight, this would have been the perfect moment to remove my mask and reveal to him the woman I had become. After all, the objective of Katarina’s plan was to propel our relationship into open liberality.

Selfishly, I let the moment pass. Yes, I couldn’t be sure how he would react, but rather hypocritically, I was not prepared to forgo the freedom of my own anonymity. I longed to be fucked by the tattooed Horseman the way I had in the Parlor. Yes, I ultimately wanted to do this with the knowledge and consent of the Roman, but how could I be sure he would let me? Showing him that I was willing to be a Cuckquean was not exactly the same as forcing him into cuckoldry.

As the kindled fireplace began to smolder, Katarina wrapped the delicate belted dress around Jessica. I draped mine over my forearm and followed the two temptresses down the stairs; leaving my lacy back the last image in the Roman’s eye. After nearly twelve hours of both deprivation and ecstasy, the exhausted man fell into sleep.

“I’ll have Edmund fix breakfast for 10:00 am tomorrow. Sound good?” Katarina asked as we stood below the mansion’s center stairway.

“Perfect” I kindly replied, still enamored by the thought of Katarina’s face between my thighs.

“That would be great, thank you.” Jessica answered sweetly. “I plan on sleeping late.” She blushed.

I retired to the guest room and laid on the rich comforter for a half-hour. Replaying the night’s events, my mind ran through a thousand scenarios for how to reveal myself to my husband in an organic way that would unite our deviant trajectories.

Chapter Two

I awoke to find a folded card placed on the nightstand. I opened the heavy weighted stationary and found a message penned in playful writing. The same feminine font that accompanied the gift of lingerie.

“Headed out of state. Breakfast nook is in the east wing. Stay as long as you would like.” A thin line of blood appeared on the surface of my finger as I tore the note in half. Was Katarina any different from the Roman? I asked myself. Although more elegantly delivered, the message was the same that I had received in dozens of texts from my husband since his business took off five years ago. I couldn’t help but question: who am I to Katarina? … a friend? … a lover? … a project? At the same time, who was she to me?

Naked I wandered the room. The antique four poster bed was its centerpiece. It was made from durable Mahogany and featured hand carved floral ornamentation. The four vertical columns supported an open tester that lacked any canopy or curtains. Despite the ornamentation, the bed’s most intimate aesthetic was the friction burns observed at the base of the four columns; subtle evidence of its deviant history.

I admired several of the paintings that adorned the room. One in particular caught my eye. It was a hyper realistic depiction of a woman’s stomach caught at the end of a long exhale. The artist’s choice of oil perfectly captured the beads of sweat which had accumulated across the model’s belly.

I walked to the window facing the rear of the estate and partially wrapped my naked body in the ivory drapes. I felt comfort in the weight of the heavy fabric as I stared over the garden and at the cottage’s shingled roof. Standing like this for several minutes, I again pondered how revealing myself to my husband would turn out.

At 9:50, I got dressed in the casual outfit I arrived in and began my search for the breakfast nook. Located at the end of the East wing, it had a far more appropriately sized table for our small party than the dining room where Katarina and I ate the night before. I was the first to arrive and found the table set with a healthy spread of pastries, jams, Greek yogurt, and fruit.

Edmund served me a cup of sweet-soft tasting coffee with an almost noxious floral aroma. At about that time, Jessica floated into the room. Given Katarina’s ghosting, I found Jessica’s lighthearted smile equally unpleasant.

Jessica sat across from me and blushed. “Last night… that was incredible. Thank you for being so welcoming. I only wish I could thank Katarina.”

I sipped the coffee and smiled.

Gushing Jessica continued “and that guy … he was amazing. He was so receiving and passionate.”

“I had a great time too.” I replied. “I had never done anything like that, and I don’t know if it showed, but I had never even kissed another woman before last night.”

I started to open to Jessica’s vibrant energy and perhaps the coffee. “As to that guy… yes, I saw. Looked like you really enjoyed yourself.” I teased with a wink.

Jessica leaned in slightly. “Guess what … I went back after you two left.”

From the way Jessica said this with a childish giggle, it was immediately clear to me that Katarina had never told her that the man was my husband. I felt an instant pang of jealousy and racked my brain to conjure the unspoken rules of this lifestyle. Is it ok for me to be jealous? Should I be mad at Jessica? What the hell kind of game was Katarina playing?

I swallowed my anger and another sip of the unpalatable coffee. I couldn’t be mad at Jessica. I offered her up to the unsuspecting Roman and now I had to live with the consequences. However, I did blame Katarina. I seethed with resentment as Jessica divulged the night’s affair.

Chapter Three

Not long after Katarina and I had departed, Jessica found herself looking out her guest room window towards the cottage. She recalled how the glow of the firelight called her back.

She explained that during her first experience with the Roman she drew all her confidence from Katarina and I. Looking back at the cottage, she felt that it was necessary for her to experience the act alone in order to truly own her new-found sexuality.

Jessica described how she knocked on the cottage door and was greeted by the unmasked Roman; how she asked if it was alright for her to come in; and how he politely entertained her.

The Roman had welcomed her upstairs and the two sat watching the smoldering ashes on the chaise lounge. He stoked the fire and replenished it with another log or two as she unabashedly explained her struggle with sex and how the night had begun to heal her.

I was jealous of both her candor and of the Roman’s attentiveness. I was in awe as Jessica recanted how the Roman delicately asked if he could kiss her again and how after doing so, he laid her down on a blanket before the fireplace.

She blushed as she described how the Roman entered her in missionary and how she soon wrapped her legs around him. She squeezed my arm when she told me how she eventually orgasmed to his gentle but deep penetration.

I contemplated interrupting her and explaining how this man was my husband and how we had drifted to the point where I was secretly cucking him. I wanted to tell her how long it had been since I shared the embrace she described and the attentiveness she received.

You see…, and all this I told to Katarina when arranging my invitation to the Ball, our relationship had long grown stale. The Roman and I met in college when we were twenty. After graduation, I went on to three years of law school, while he began a career in accounting. We got married after I passed the bar at twenty-five. I took a job as a corporate attorney and he worked his way into consulting.

That first year, we tried for children and the sex quickly became mechanical; even more so as the months passed without success. After six or seven months of trying, we took a break to refocus on our careers. The Roman started his own consulting firm and it rapidly expanded. After three more years as corporate counsel, I took the money and ran, turning my focus to our fledgling real estate portfolio. By the night of the Ball, our marriage had become a business and the sex had become a chore.

Chapter Four

I spared Jessica this depressing reality. Instead I became transfixed on her night with the Roman. If I endeavored to open our relationship, I had to reacquaint myself with his intimate side.

After reaching her first orgasm, Jessica and the Roman cuddled for a bit. They joked about all Jessica had missed out on and they recounted the earlier orgy. The Roman speculated about the other two temptresses and without specifying why, he briefly questioned Jessica specifically about me … the woman in the cheetah print mask. Fearful of Katarina’s rules, Jessica insisted that she didn’t divulge anything about me. To be honest, there wasn’t much she could have said.

“I’m sorry for rambling!” Jessica said with genuine concern. “Do you even want me to continue? I feel like a foolish school girl.”

I paused for a moment before responding insincerely. “Yes… yes… please do go on. No need to worry. I was so caught up with Katarina last night, I forgot all about you and your man.” While I could not make sense of the dissonant feelings racing through my head, I knew I needed to learn more about the Roman’s dalliance.

“The cuddling was great, he made me feel really secure, but I just couldn’t wait to go for another round.” Jessica smiled. “I rolled him on to his back and straddled him. We made out quite passionately until he got hard again. That whole time, I never once thought about my fear. If you could picture it, I did all the work while riding him in front of that fireplace.”

Jessica spun her chair around and straddled it. “The best part however …, was when he sat up and embraced me. He had his legs crossed while I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. For what seems like forever, we embraced and kissed like this. I rocked back and forth the whole time. Toward the end, I started to grind in a little circle. I orgasmed and we practically came together … he pulled out at just the last second and made a mess of my leg. You should try it sometime!”

I nodded. It was evident that the Roman had found in Jessica, what I had found in the tattooed horseman.

Chapter Five

I eluded my way through Jessica’s questions about being eaten out by Katarina. She was just as shocked as I. Even though I couldn’t stop thinking about it, I just couldn’t process what had transpired between us. The pragmatic side of me reasoned that Katarina was simply guiding me through the experience. On the other hand, the naive side of me wanted there to be more.

Thanks to Katarina’s hasty departure, it didn’t look like I would get an answer that day, nor anytime soon. I pushed the thought out of my head. I wanted to get home and prepare myself for the Roman’s arrival. I expected him midafternoon the next day.

I got back to the house and continued to ponder how I should approach the subject. Considering Jessica’s story, I really should have just surprised him in the Cottage. I finally settled on the idea that a direct confrontation would be best. I would let him get settled and then cook a little romantic dinner. I would explain that I knew about his swinging … that I was ok with it … and more importantly, that I was there.

I heard the Roman come through the door at around 6 p.m. “John?” I called out from the kitchen. For the first time since this whole charade started, I finally saw him as a partner. He didn’t appear to hear me as he headed straight up the stairs.

I finished my glass of red wine and went to join him, still anxious about the final reveal. I found him sitting on the bed. He had a rather bleak look on his face, and I noticed his suitcase open on the floor.

“This is hard for me to say” he started. “and I don’t know what this means. But what I do know is that I … that we … need to take some time to reset.”

“John” I uttered softly taking a step toward him.

“We’re launching a new client up in Boston. I’ve decided to lead it personally. It’ll be a six-month run up. I may take a few weekends to come back home, but I don’t want to set anything in stone.”

My mind raced. Do I tell him now? Do I feign ignorance and play the begging wife?

“Look, I know you feel it too. I thought we’d have a better balance when you switched gears but that just wasn’t the case.” John continued.

The thought of being blamed for our failing marriage enraged me.

“What! Do you hear yourself? I’ve given up my career. How could things improve when you are off galivanting from city to city each month?!”

I didn’t bother to listen to his reply. I knew he was right. We needed a reset and I now saw a third option. I could use this time to my advantage and possibly to ours.

“Fine.” I replied. “But don’t expect me to stay cooped up in here waiting for you to get your shit together.”

“Where are you going to go?” He implicitly belittled.

“I’ve got family … I’ve got friends… for fuck sake John I can buy myself a condo for all I care.”

I took a walk and let John get on his way. This was certainly not the direction I saw things going, but I could not help but blame myself. While it was the Roman who stepped out first, I questioned whether my antics pushed John further away.

I stopped at the local 7-11 and bought a pack of cigarettes. Something I hadn’t done in years. I barely managed to light one with a match. “Fuck Jessica” I muttered. I crushed the unsmoked cigarette on the floor. “Fuck me.”

Chapter Six

About a week and a half later, I received a DM from Katarina. “Back in town, meet me for martinis tomorrow at 3:00.” What a presumptive bitch I thought. Yes, I knew where to meet her. But for her to also suggest I wanted to? I left the message unanswered and headed to the liquor store.

The next day 3:00 came and went while I sat comfortably at home. At around 4:15, I went to the kitchen and prepared two drinks. At 4:30, I answered the door to Katarina standing in a white ruffled Oxford shirt and chic khaki chinos.

I welcomed her to the kitchen. “Here, beefeater, dry, stirred, with an olive up.” I handed her one of the two pre-prepared Martinis.

“How did you know …” she started.

“I didn’t” I replied.

I led Katarina out to the patio where we took up seats in my modest outdoor couch and armchair.

“John left” I bluntly began the conversation. “At first, I blamed you. I mean, why didn’t you tell Jessica what exactly we were doing?”

“I didn’t want her to hold herself back.” Katarina replied. “She’s not like you or me. I figured she wouldn’t truly open up if she felt the weight of your eyes. It worked didn’t it?”

I hung onto those words; what did she mean, like you or me? “Yes, but in that case, you didn’t have to use John. You could have chosen anyone else.” I replied.

“Yes, but then you and John wouldn’t have opened up.” Katarina replied confidently.

“Well, look where we ended up!” I replied sarcastically.

Katarina did not take the bait. “Give it time dear.” She replied coolly. “And besides, I thought you said you no longer blamed me.”

“Yes, I did. I realized John is really the one to blame. I do hope he comes around. But for now, I am starting to look forward to learning more about myself.”

“You should stay with me for a little while. I’ve kept your guest room open and I could use the company.” Katarina paused and pulled part of the olive from her mouth. “You left in the pit.”

“I hoped you would choke.” I replied in friendly jest.

Chapter Seven

I took Katarina up on her offer and decided to stay at the Estate for the time being. Save for meals and a few random excursions, I hardly saw Katarina the first few days. With John out of town, the brunt of our real-estate portfolio fell on my shoulders and we were in the middle of renovating an old Victorian we had bought at auction. Between the work, I still pondered what I meant to Katarina.

On the fourth day I was walking the East Wing’s second floor when I heard heavy panting coming from an unexplored corner room. I was growing accustomed to the near constant presence of transient faces around the Estate, but this time, curiosity got the best of me.

I slowly approached the open door. As I drew nearer, the unmistakable sound of erotic indulgence grew louder. Standing against the door-frame, I peered in. Before me two bodies were entangled atop a simple ladder-back chair. The chair was centered in a whitewashed room brilliantly lit by natural light which passed through floor-to-ceiling arched windows. The room’s distressed hardwood flooring was all but covered with paint stained canvas drop cloths. A dozen unfinished paintings were scattered around the room. Other than the chair, the only pieces of furniture in the studio were a small stool and an empty chesterfield sofa. Next to the sofa stood an easel with a virgin canvas. A Nikon DSLR sat upon the stool.

After taking in the brilliance of the room, my eyes focused on the chair. Upon it, and completely nude, Katarina thrusted her petite frame against the slender bodied man she faced; their faces interlocked for a long open-mouth kiss. The man was in his mid to late twenties. His tattooed body was thin but nonetheless toned. From the peak of Katarina’s thrusting, I could tell he had a long cock. I didn’t know quite what to think. I had never seen Katarina with a man before. Well at least not counting the time she had my husband’s dick in her mouth.

Katarina placed her hands on the man’s thighs and lifted her legs above his shoulders. The Artist supported her back as she used her triceps to bounce on his lap. A jealous specter in the door, I started to touch myself. Soon Katarina placed her hands around the man’s neck and leaned back. Both of their abdomens flexed as they worked to keep the chair balanced. Katarina screamed with pleasure.

With my hand down my pants, I briefly closed my eyes and tilted my head back while taking in the sounds of the room. When I opened them, Katarina had changed positions yet again. Now she sat with her back to the Artist; his legs spread wide, her small frame between them. Did she notice me when turning? Without hinting either way, she flicked her brunette hair back and bounced on his shaft with determination.

When she neared orgasm, she re-positioned his legs between hers. She fucked harder than before, arching her back into him. Her head now at his shoulder, he wrapped his left arm around her while grabbing the camera with his right. He snapped a rapid succession of close-shots of her exposed rib cage while she came.

The Artist checked the digital samples and placed the camera down. The pair walked over to the sofa. Katarina bent over and placed her hands on the seat. The Artist placed his hands on her firm buttocks and started to fuck her from behind. “Ohhh fuck!” She moaned. I watched the Artist’s long shaft repeatedly withdraw and thrust deep into her. Just then, the back of my head slightly knocked the door-frame while I touched myself. Hearing this, the Artist looked up, walked to my position and closed the door without saying a word.

I buttoned my pants and realigned my blouse. I hovered by the door for a few more moments and listened to Katarina’s moans intensify. Embarrassed, I returned to my room to bathe.

I had been laying in the water for nearly a half hour when Katarina came to visit dressed in a Champaign colored satin robe. She leaned against the edge of the tub and tested the temperature with her finger. I imagined pulling her in.

“So you’ve met Pierre” she giggled. “I let him use the studio whenever he’s in America. I’m sorry if he was rude. He has an incredibly involved process.”

Katarina gestured to the bedroom. “That oil painting is one of his.”

“I was admiring it last week” I replied.

“Pierre solely paints these extreme close-ups. He says the real beauty is in what is left out of frame. To the viewer, the painting is an objectively aesthetic depiction of the human body. But to him and the model, the painting is a snapshot of the ecstasy they shared. That said, he claims there are only two people in the world who can truly appreciate its worth. I couldn’t tell you how many Connecticut housewives have one of his paintings hung subtly in their homes… I’ll arrange for you to sit down with him before he leaves.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gtz1nc/the_estate_part_four_the_studio_mffvoyeur