by Robin Gideon
Faye’s sudden inhalation followed by a breathless silence suggested his challenge was not without curiously arousing tendrils of temptation.
“But I…” she managed to say before her words simply trailed off into silence.
“Let’s see, Faye.”
Dirk’s eyes were the very essence of temptation. In peevish discord with her body’s reaction, Faye thought it unfair the men were so physically beautiful.
A full six feet separated Faye from them. Nervously, she brought the champagne glass once more to her lips, only to embarrassingly discover it was empty once again.
“This champagne seems to have evaporated,” she said, breaking into a faltering smile that did nothing to dampen the sexual tension that had suddenly formed within the confines of the lavish, custom-built private carriage.
It was Radburn this time that moved from his seat, plucked the champagne bottle from the bucket, and refilled Faye’s glass. Though shorter than Dirk, he was a full thirty pounds heavier, yet he moved with an agile athleticism that would have been impressive in a man half his size. Radburn was back in his seat, scotch in hand, in only a matter of seconds.
Dirk’s blue gaze bore into Faye with an intensity that melted her bones. “Prove it, Faye,” he repeated, his words softly spoken yet carrying generations of dictatorial authority.
She closed her eyes and whispered, “I’m a widow. I have a child…”
“Irrelevant,” Dirk replied.
Faye kept her eyes closed. Every nerve in her body seemed to be supercharged, crackling with life, ready to receive stimulation from these devilish men. They inspired in her feelings which wildly embarrassed her.
Dirk said in a flat voice that would brook no resistance, “Raise your skirt, Faye.”
Chapter Seven
She balled her small, pale hands into fists, wrinkling the costly fabric of her black, woolen skirt. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and the pulsing beat of her heart could be felt in her clitoris.
“Raise. Your. Skirt.”
He spoke the three words slowly and with all the authority of a king addressing a subject. Everything sincere and true in Faye screamed that she should run from the carriage immediately, leaping out even while it made its way through the streets of London. But her hands were listening to a calling of a different nature—the whispering enticements of a passionate body that had known little libidinous entertainment throughout its existence, and only once during the previous three years.
As she lifted her skirt, Faye asked, “Why are you doing this to me?”
Dirk’s throaty chuckle bounced around the carriage before he answered, “Because you want us to.”
Faye shook her head but continued drawing her skirt upward, revealing first her calves encased in the finest white, Chinese silk stockings available, then her knees.
Her heart slammed against her ribs faster and harder as she revealed her knees then the tops of her stockings, which were attached to her corset by slender, lace garter straps.
“I mustn’t—” Faye said, in contrast to her actions as she lifted her skirt high enough to expose the milky-white flesh of her thighs.
Faye looked down at her hands as she pulled the bottom hem of her skirt dangerously higher. It was as though they belonged to someone else, some uninhibited, wildly adventurous seductress unafraid of inciting passions, either in herself, or the men with her. In short, a woman nothing at all like Faye.
“I mustn’t,” she whispered. Her tone was that of a woman who had lost her way in dangerous territory and was becoming increasingly frightened.
But she slithered her skirt and petticoat another inch higher, just enough to expose the delicate, pink lips of her pussy and her small, rectangular thatch of ebony pubic hair. The breath caught in her throat when the feminine beauty of her own pussy was revealed to her.
In a voice as taut as piano wire, Dirk said, “Spread your knees a little wider, Faye. Spread your knees and…”
She waited for the next word, unconsciously holding her breath, her speeding imagination filling in a thousand erotic possibilities. She waited…and waited…and finally aching curiosity made her tilt her gaze up to look directly into Dirk’s dazzling, blue eyes.
“And touch yourself,” he concluded when Faye was at last looking at him.
Faye gasped softly, and her first reaction was to clamp her knees tightly together. She did not, however, lower her skirt.
“No, Faye, you shouldn’t hide from us,” Dirk continued. His voice caressed her, touching her invisibly. “Spread your legs apart and touch yourself.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve made enough decisions. When you’re with us, you’ll submit to our command.”
Faye released another soft gasp. A shiver went through her, and the words submit and command echoed in her imagination and made her clitoris throb with tension. She reminded herself that she was one of the still small but growing numbers of college-educated women holding power in the business world of London. She was a business leader, a woman of courage and conviction who didn’t have to take orders from anyone. But the shrill screaming of her professionally-trained mind had little sway over a feminine psyche that reacted to stark male dominance embellished with stunning beauty.
Faye spread her knees apart, and while holding her skirt up even higher with her left hand, touched herself intimately with her right. The warmth and slick moisture of her arousal slid over her fingers. Her clitoris throbbed with the pulse of her racing heart. Turning her gaze downward, she watched the tip of her middle finger gently separate her pink lips, traveling no more than an inch inside the slick entrance to her feminine temple.
“Ohhh!” Faye sighed, withdrawing her finger as though propelled by forces beyond her control. Then she invaded her body once more, slightly deeper than previously.
Her gaze danced between Dirk and Radburn. She’d been brought up to believe that what she was now doing, tenderly caressing her own clitoris, wasn’t something a good woman should ever do. And it certainly wasn’t something she did in front of two gorgeous men. But even as she accepted the taboo nature of her actions, she also realized that having Radburn and Dirk there in the carriage with her, with their heated gazes scorching her body, made her actions even more erotic.
“Are you wet, Faye?” Dirk asked, the faintly teasing quality of his voice suggesting he fully well knew the answer and suggesting a familiarity in giving such intimate commands to impassioned women.
“Dirk, I hate you.” It was a soft, plaintive exclamation from a woman driven to the edge of a precipice by desires too powerful to be entirely comprehended.
“No, you don’t.” He was in charge, his control complete. He had casually dismissed her declaration.
“I hate you,” she repeated, without the slightest flicker of honesty to her words. She lifted her hand toward the men. Her middle finger glistened with her nectar to the second knuckle.
“Continue, please.” Dirk’s cultured voice was the embodiment of British civility. In his polite command was a thousand years of well-heeled, aristocratic authority and debauchery.
Faye caught her lower lip between her teeth and bit down, stifling the next impassioned moan that threatened to escape her mouth. She circled her erect clitoris with the tip of her finger, teasing herself briefly before providing direct pressure against the small button of tingling flesh.
She licked her lips and whispered, “I…I want to…see…you.”
Radburn and Dirk exchanged a look, each arching an amused eyebrow, familiar friends accustomed to having beautiful women practically begging to see their bodies. As the men unbuckled their belts and unbuttoned their flies, Faye’s right hand beat faster between her wide-spread, alabaster thighs. She slumped lower in the carriage seat, her head pressing against the backrest and forcing her chin against her chest, her bottom now completely off the seat cushion. With her left hand she pinched her nipple through her blouse and camisole, widening her eyes in anticipation of seeing a masculine bounty suffici
ent for legions of women.
“This isn’t f–fair,” Faye finally stammered, her hand undulating between her trembling thighs as Dirk brought his erection out for her inspection.
Radburn then did the same.
She licked her lips once more to moisten them and tried to calm her rapid, ragged breathing, but her emotions were quickly reeling out of control. “You are both so…beautiful. They are beautiful.”
The specific inflection suggested that Faye had mentally separated the erections from the men possessing them, as though the columns of pulsing man-flesh were a distinct attraction irrespective of whatever other charms and enticements Radburn and Dirk might possess. Very softly, her eyes locked with Dirk’s, the man whose shockingly intimate kisses had caused Faye the most soul-searing orgasm of her life, and she whispered, “Make…me…come.”
Dirk was fully clothed, with the exception of his unbuckled belt and unbuttoned trousers, and he traveled from one end of the carriage to the other in an instant. This was not the time for dalliance, for practiced and measured seduction, for sly teasing before delivering fulfillment. Faye was too greedy—and Dirk, too needy—for any such emotional or physical moderation.
When the crest of Dirk’s erection pressed against her vagina’s passion-swollen lips, Faye opened her mouth into an almost perfect O. She had not taken a man into her body since long before her husband had been injured—more than three years. And what her husband had given her dimension-wise paled in comparison to Dirk’s erection. It was like comparing a little boy to a man.
Dirk rubbed the flaring crown of his arousal up and down Faye’s delicate fissure, and she whispered, “I haven’t…in so long.”
Dirk thrust, and true to Faye’s worst fears, she didn’t experience a welcoming sense of connection, but a jagged-edged knife blade of pain as his solid, unyielding cock forced the lips of her pussy to expand, to swell, to surrender.
“Oh, God,” Faye gasped, her expression transforming in a heartbeat from one of passion to one of searing pain.
Her greatest fear was that Dirk would continue his onslaught. But instead of impaling her even more deeply, he immediately stopped the movement of his hips. His hands, long-fingered and powerful, caressed her thighs through her stockings with the delicate, refined touch of a connoisseur.
“Don’t worry,” he said in a way that made Faye immediately trust his judgment, despite her discomfort. “It’ll get better soon. I promise you. And then it’ll just keep getting better…and better.” He retreated very slowly, withdrawing the crest of his erection from Faye’s vaginal embrace, and then began another slow invasion, inserting the head and, this time, an inch of his steel-hard shaft. “And even better.”
Faye closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation. Each slow retreat brought welcome relief to delicate tissues that had never experienced a man of Dirk’s dimensions. But with the relief came a sense of loss, of emptiness, so when Dirk slipped completely free from her embrace, Faye found herself reaching for him, pulling at the lapels of his jacket in silent request. She was immediately rewarded with another long, slow invasion, slightly deeper than the previous ones.
“Better?” Dirk asked.
Faye looked into his eyes. Her lips moved as she tried to speak, but words would not come. Finally, almost delirious with desire, she nodded.
“See? I’ll teach you to trust me,” Dirk said, pushing the final inch of his hard shaft into Faye so that his pelvis was pressed against hers. “God, you’re tight!”
Faye squeezed her eyes shut. Her husband had sometimes made comments to her while they were making love, but his words hadn’t aroused her—at least not like Dirk’s did. Befuddled by her rapidly escalating lust, Faye decided that being told she was “tight” was the highest sexual praise she had ever received.
The shaft of Dirk’s cock rubbed against sensitive tissue, sending waves of pure pleasure coursing through her veins. His hands caressed her thighs as he undulated his hips with gradually increasing speed. And whenever he reached full insertion, Dirk pushed against her as though trying to go yet even deeper, and the pressure against her labia and clitoris added to her carnal intoxication.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, opening her eyes. She pulled at Dirk’s lapels as he withdrew from her pussy. “Kiss me, damn you.”
Dirk smiled at her, a charming, confident smile that let Faye know she was not the first woman he’d driven half-crazy with desire who’d begged for his kisses. She wanted to hate him for his confidence because she felt anything but confident in her sexuality. When he didn’t kiss her immediately, she tugged harder on his lapels, and he broadened his smile.
He withdrew again, and when he pushed his hard cock deep into her the next time, he leaned into Faye, his chest compressing her breasts as he sealed his mouth over hers. Faye wrapped her arms tightly around Dirk’s neck, hugging him fiercely and boldly thrusting her tongue between his lips as the flames of lust blazed hotter and hotter.
Faye’s husband had never been able to get her to climax while his erection was inside her. She hadn’t, in fact, even realized it was possible. But then, she’d never made love with Dirk before, so her experience with male perfection was far from complete. The measured thrusts he had used earlier had evolved into charging invasions that didn’t stop until his body collided solidly against Faye’s and his cock was fully buried inside her slick sheath. Each pounding thrust caused Faye to gasp in ecstasy. Her emotions were in such a tumult that she hadn’t even realized an orgasm was approaching until it was already upon her and the cataclysmic spasms wracked her voluptuous body.
She was just beginning the long descent from the emotional heights to which Dirk’s loving had driven her when he grabbed her wrists and wrenched her arms from around his neck. He thrust into Faye one last time before retreating completely from her slick passage. His lips pulled back to reveal teeth clenched in an animalistic snarl as his volcanic eruptions began.
Faye was caught by surprise when a thick stream of semen arched through the air. She turned her face quickly aside, and the warm cream hit her hair before leaving a gooey line of passion down her temple and jaw. More of his ejaculation hit her blouse. Dirk groaned.
When his climax was finally over, Faye blinked and turned to look at Dirk. His face was flushed, but his expression was one of utter contentment. Her own body was cooling in the afterglow of a powerful climax, though her emotions were chaotic as regret battled with complete sexual satisfaction.
“Sorry,” Dirk said, taking a white, silk kerchief from his inside jacket pocket. He wiped away the semen sticking to Faye’s temple and cheek.
Faye shook her head and closed her eyes. She was lethargic, her body feeling like it no longer had any bones.
“Don’t be,” she said quietly, her words barely audible above the rattling of the coach’s wheels against the cobblestones. “I’ve never felt so…so whatever it is I’m feeling right now.” She opened her eyes and looked down at herself. Four distinct rivers of cum ran from the swells of her breasts down to the crumpled mass of cloth that was her skirt and petticoat. She smiled and added, “How on earth am I going to explain away these stains?”
Dirk moved back to the rear seat, and Faye sat upright in the front. Radburn had removed all of his clothing while she had been entertaining herself with Dirk. He was pale-skinned, and there wasn’t a hair on his thick, muscled chest. The line of his pectorals was clearly defined and rock solid. His thighs were tree trunks of suppressed power. And then there was his cock—which, like the man, was visually intimidating and suggested dominating strength.
A shiver of apprehension went through Faye. Though Dirk’s cock was longer than Radburn’s, the latter’s erection was significantly greater in girth. No matter how heated her passion became, a woman’s body still had its limits in accommodating a man.
As she eased her jacket over her shoulders and off completely, Faye couldn’t take her eyes away from Radburn’s arousal. When she began unbuttoning her blouse, she
touched the warm, sticky semen. She looked at her fingertips, rubbed them with her thumb, and her mind spun with the awareness that she had just made love to one man and would soon be making love to another. Nothing in her past could prepare her for her behavior with Radburn and Dirk.
After removing her blouse and camisole, Faye rocked from side to side to push her petticoat and skirt down her legs. The entire time, she stared at Radburn’s cock, nearly mesmerized by it.
“That thing,” she explained quietly, “is as thick around as my wrist. Well, almost.”
Radburn chuckled, and that told Faye he was every bit as sexually confident as his best friend. Sitting opposite them with her nipples erect and exposed above the half-cups of her corset, she put a hand between her legs. The lips of her pussy were swollen, either with passion or from her sexual labors, or both.
“Come to me, Faye,” Radburn said. He was slouched in the seat, and from her position she could see a long, blue vein pulsing along the underside of his thick shaft. He used his thumb to push on the shaft so that it pointed straight up. “I have something here I think you want.”
Faye made quick work of removing her shoes. Dirk helped her remove her corset. She pulled off the constricting garment, leaving her silk stockings attached to it in her haste to have no barriers at all between Radburn’s muscular body and her own voluptuous one.
When she started to stand, Radburn put up a hand and said firmly, “Not like that!”
Faye froze, not understanding what she had done wrong. It had been perhaps three minutes since Dirk’s vigorous loving had driven her to orgasm, and she was greedy to experience another one from Radburn.
“On your knees,” Radburn said. “Crawl to me.”
Faye whimpered. She had been given a command in the same manner a sheik would discipline a new harem girl who did not yet understand the subservience that was expected of her. The notion of being a sex slave to these two dominating men slithered through Faye’s consciousness, and though she suspected it said something truly wicked about her, she also knew the concept of total sexual surrender caused her clitoris to throb with anticipation.
