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“I can’t wait to see this,” Monsieur said. “I’ve imagined it, from things you’ve told me.”
A hot flush suffused my entire body. They’d talked about me? About sex things?
Sir bent close to my ear, his breath stirring the hair at my temples. “I do hope it’s all right that I’ve shared some of our secrets.
“I hope you spoke well of me, Sir,” I whispered as a cuff cinched around my wrist.
“He told me how beautiful you look,” Monsieur said, his soft fingertips trailing down my back over the lace of my gown. “How loudly you scream. How desperately you plead. He told me that, when you come, you gush all over the floor. And that he once made you lick it up.”
The shame and perversion of that encounter rushed through me all at once, magnified by the knowledge that Monsieur now shared the secret. He knew, then, about Sir holding my cheek against the floor with his foot on my head. That he’d made me clean up every drop and suck my wetness from the machine’s dildo as punishment for coming without his permission. That he’d whipped me with my favorite weighted leather flogger until my ass had glowed red and tears had washed my mascara down my face.
Not only had Monsieur heard about all of that, he’d one day participate in similar scenes. I imagined Sir pushing Monsieur’s head between my legs, forcing him to eat his own cum from my pussy in a similar punishment.
My cunt spasmed, and my clit throbbed; with a soft cry, I came without them even touching me.
“Oh, look,” Monsieur said with a cluck of his tongue. “I think she’s finished without us.”
“She’s not finished until I say she’s finished,” Sir corrected him. “Isn’t that right, Sophie?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered without hesitation.
“And are you allowed to come without permission?” he asked, his palm smoothing over my ass through the dress.
My knees tensed. Should I anticipate a strike? “No, Sir.”
His hand lifted, and I flinched. But it fell to the back of my head in a comforting touch. “But that wasn’t your fault, was it? Monsieur doesn’t realize the power his words hold over you.”
“I find it quite interesting, though,” Monsieur said with a cruel chuckle. “Imagine if I kept you restrained for hours and talked of such things, barely touching you. Teasing you with a feather, perhaps.”
“Or a paintbrush,” Sir suggested. “I know she enjoys those. I’ll have to show you the video, sometime.”
The video that I’d made with my occasional casual hook-up, Gena. She’d used paintbrushes dipped in dyes made from water-based lube to color my clit and labia then pressed paper against me to create a print I’d given Sir for his birthday. The touches had been maddening and light, and though it hadn’t taken very long, it had been torment. That had been part of his present, too.
“I look forward to it,” Monsieur said. “Now, shall we fuck her?”
“Of course. First, we need to decide if that’s the dildo we’ll use. Do you think we need something…”
“Bigger?”
“Or perhaps with more of a curve. Like…” I heard a drawer open. We kept the attachments and things we might need—like lube or extra restraints—that would be inconvenient if placed in another room in an antique sideboard. Scissors for rope and even bolt-cutters for chains were within easy distance, as well. But I knew what Sir was getting.
“In this position, if we slide it onto the machine just so…” he said, and my toes curled against the marble, “it will put more pressure on her G-spot. And that’s what makes her get so incredibly wet. Let me show you.”
My skirt pushed up, and the round head of a large curved dildo nudged my labia then slid right on past. Sir drove the toy into me without any other preparation, and the exaggerated, non-anatomically correct shape of the thing shocked me. I knew exactly which one he’d selected, just from the feel of it—sleek, smooth, and hot pink. He knew how much I loved the color.
He withdrew the toy and pushed it in, again, upside down so that the wide ball-shaped head pressed hard on my g-spot. He was right, it did get me wet. The sound of my pussy opening around the toy was unmistakable as he withdrew it.
The smooth surface tapped my lips, and Sir commanded, “Clean it up.”
I obediently dropped my jaw and let him fuck my mouth with the dildo, gagging and drooling as he pushed back too hard. I choked and sputtered but tried as best as I could to wind my tongue around the shaft of the toy. It withdrew, only to be replaced with the real thing; Sir’s cock rammed into my throat and blocked my shriek of surprise.
I heard the soft click of the machine’s motor as it took a few strokes. Then, it shut off. Still fucking my mouth, Sir instructed Monsieur, “She’ll need plenty of lube, from the friction alone. All right, line it up… Good. Put it in her then manually rotate the arm forward, until it’s at its deepest point.”
