Buying the Virgin Box Set - Books One to Five

by Simone Leigh

  In front of me, my Master kneels naked on the bed, his twitching erection close to my face. Behind me is his friend, Michael, again kneeling. His warm breath against my exposed pussy is already bringing a rising heat to my face, among other things.

  “Are you alright Charlotte?” asks my Master, his fingers curling through my long locks, copper, streaked gold in the flickering candlelight.

  Gasping, I struggle to get the words out. “Yes Master, I’m fine, just… aaahhhh….” Michael is stroking my pussy lips with one finger - I think. I don’t have a terribly good view of exactly what he is doing, but if his aim is to arouse me, he is succeeding.

  Three days ago, I was a virgin. Since then I have auctioned and sold myself and my virginity to the man before me. He has taken me on a sexual roller-coaster and I am now learning of the gentle arts of being fucked by two men together - with, I understand, much more to come.

  My Master plays the glistening tip of his cock against my lips, inviting me to taste the salt-sweet dewdrop seeping from the head. I wrap my lips eagerly around, loving the flavour of my Master, and his musky male scent as I inhale him.

  Michael is parting my pussy lips, exposing my core, displaying me, looking within to my depths. Through the veil of my hair, I try to watch in the mirrors what he is doing. I can just see through my hair as he leans forward, tongue extended, lips parted, to taste me.

  Abruptly, the curtain of hair is swept aside, my Master gathering it up, sweeping it over one shoulder. “My apologies Charlotte. Of course you should be able to see. When you have two men fucking you together, you should be able to enjoy the show.”

  I can indeed now see what is happening, but my Master’s words “two men fucking you” suddenly liquefies my core. Michael chuckles behind me and I feel the shaking of his laughter as he leans into my thighs, face into my now engorged and sodden sex.

  He licks, starting with my clit and moving smoothly upwards over my lips and through my pussy. Heat bubbles up inside me and I flood, juices trickling down inside my thighs, to be intercepted by Michael, lapping them up. My eyes meet his in the mirrors and he grins wickedly as, holding my gaze, tongue outstretched, mid-movement he hesitates. He slips back the hood of my clit, positioning himself so that I have a perfect view of what he is doing, pure sex in his eyes and showing me that he is about to take my bud in his mouth.

  Pleasure pierces hotly through me. It is too much, my hips starting to buck of their own accord. My Master is laughing above me. “Nice one, Michael. Make her squirm.”

  Michael has twisted slightly, trying to angle himself so as to tongue-fuck me, and simultaneously, watch me in the mirrors. Taking my button between his lips at the corner of his mouth, he tongues it, holding my eyes all the time. Sucking gently from his slightly awkward position, nonetheless, wild fires are alighting in me. As I watch him through a sexual haze, my control is rapidly vanishing, my back arching, vibrating.

  Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

  Finally, he turns away, his face fully into me, breaking our locked gaze. As he slurps and laps his way up and through my sopping cunt he can no longer watch my face, but I can see perfectly what he is doing. His tongue circles my drenched clit, working through my folds and crevices, swiping through my hot well. He licks deeply inside me, circling my inner muscles, sucking, drinking me.

  Overcome in a throbbing paroxysm of lust, pleasure pulsing through my veins, I am aflame. Flushed over chest, face, breasts and cunt, dripping with sweat and pussy juice, I writhe and gasp helplessly, bound at wrist and ankle, unable to do more than wriggle uselessly, sucking in air and moaning incoherently.

  “You’re getting very noisy Charlotte.” complains my Master, and abruptly, I find myself gagged by his cock being shoved in my mouth. Engorged and pulsing, it forces an entry through my lips.

  At this, Michael breaks away to stand, opens me to full extent with his fingers and plunges into me, hard. My hips buck and jerk in response as he stretches my hot, wet pussy with his thick member.

  Simultaneously, my Master is stroking himself into my mouth, blocking my attempts to scream or gasp. Fluid leaks over my tongue and lips and I try to lick it away, enjoying the saltiness of my Master’s pre-cum.

  Michael behind me starts to gasp and shudder, speeding his already rapid, thrusting rhythm. I can feel the tension in him building, his cock ever harder and larger inside me, his balls swinging against me as he rams himself home inside me, into my freely flowing cunt. My breathing takes on his rhythm and I pant in time with his thrusts, so far as I can with my Master’s erection commanding my airways.

  With a growl he cums, grasping my hips tightly and shuddering as he pumps his seed into me. Rocking and grunting, he pulses hotly once, twice, thrice more, grinding against my butt, and then relaxes.

  Withdrawing with a sucking sound, he gasps and slaps me on the buttock. “Ah but you’re a great fuck Charlotte. I’m going to enjoy this week. And I’m going to enjoy watching this now.”

  I cannot reply. My Master’s cock is still plugging my mouth. Something about the way Michael says ‘this’ tells me that he knows something I don’t.

  In the mirrors I see his eyes meet my Master’s as he helps himself to a glass of wine, seating himself at the top of the bed and showing every sign of being a man settling in for a show.

  My Master pulls out of my mouth. “I’m not going to fully face-fuck you yet Charlotte. Perhaps in a while. But we have some other games to play first.”

  Climbing off the bed, he pulls something out of a drawer, dangling it in front of me.

  From my bound and straddled position, I see a red leather flogger, soft pliable fronds swishing over my eyes and nose and mouth.

  My Master trails it softly over my skin, over my face and shoulders, down the soft pale skin of my back, by the curve of my waist and hip.

  Standing behind me, he swishes it over my buttocks. “Charlotte. I’m going to test your limits. You will find this pleasant at first, but when it is too much, you must tell me and I will stop. Do you understand?”

  I nod.

  “Tell me clearly Charlotte. What will you say when you want me to stop? ‘No’ isn’t good enough. ‘No’ often means ‘Yes’ in these cases.” He swishes the flogger against the back of my thighs, harder this time. It stings a little and I gasp as a frisson runs through me. “What will you say? Your safety word Charlotte?”

  What will I say?

  Struggling for a moment, it comes to me. “Heartbeat.” I say. “My safe word is ‘Heartbeat’ Master.”

  “Good girl.” And the flogger licks around the tender skin of my thighs. Aaahhhh….

  Searing pleasure electrifies me, jolting my pussy awake again.

  In the mirror I see Michael, sipping wine, watching silently through hooded eyes. His pupils are wide and dark, black against the halo of his golden hair. His gaze locks with mine as the flogger comes down again, lashing across a creamy buttock. The skin feels hot under the kiss of the leather, flushing red in a wide stripe. My pussy is flooding with a scalding fluid, trickling down over my pulsing clit, a mixture of my own juices and Michael’s cum.

  The flogger lashes the other buttock, stinging hard, and I cry out at the pain, but I want this pain, this sexual pain-pleasure surging through my core.

  I want to be fucked. I want my Master inside me. My hips begin to gyrate and the lash comes down again, licking down within my thighs, close by my flooding sex. My inner walls are pulsing, thrilling to the lick of the flail on my skin.

  “Please Master….”

  “Do you want me to stop Charlotte? Remember your safety word.”

  “No Master. I don’t want you to stop. I want….” I am gasping now, my breath coming in short rapid pants. “I want….”

  “What do you want Charlotte?”

  Who said that? Which of them spoke?

  “I want….”

  “Yes?”

  “I want… oh God. Fuck me. Please fuck me. I want to cum. I need to cum.”


  My Master speaks. “Not yet Charlotte, but it’s good that you’re learning to ask nicely. We can give you something as a reward for that. Michael, if you would.”

  Michael crawls forward over the bed, sliding his hands over my shoulders, kneading and massaging over my arms, back and neck. As the lash comes down again and I jerk again in response, his hands slip around to my breasts, cupping and rubbing. My face near his now semi-erect cock, I can smell myself on him, my own perfume from where he has fucked me. He rolls and tweaks my hard nipples, arousal undulating down to my sex.

  Mindless with lust, I howl as the lash licks my pussy. Pain ripples through me, echoed in my nipples where Michael now pinches hard. I am lost in the embrace of torment and ecstasy.

  Oh God….

  “Please, please, I need to cum. Master, please.”

  Something nuzzles at my entrance. My Master’s cock? No, it is something else. “I’m not going to fuck you yet Charlotte. I’m only going to come myself after I’ve finished you.”

  There is a buzzing, a vibration, and something slips inside me, convulsing my inner muscles. Michael is still pinching, hard, and I whimper. Climax curls up within me, tormented groans squeezing past my lips.

  Thumb and forefinger takes my clit, rubbing gently, so gently, on my hot and swollen bud. It sends an unbearable surge through me from clit to spine, my thighs pitching and shoving against the excruciating-ecstatic thrill.

  Orgasm takes me, welling up, overwhelming me as I scream and writhe in my bonds.

  For long seconds, the finger works my clit, urging on my climax before pulling away. Then my Master smoothly sheathes himself in my pulsating cunt.

  Through my sexual miasma, I can smell his arousal, a wild male scent that drives me even higher. His cock is huge, engorged, and already I can feel the tension of his own climax waxing. He fits me tightly, stretching me as he pounds inwards, riding me, my pussy slick and hot, his erection spearing me.

  He slams in, thrusting hard, again and again, then, every muscle tensing into stillness, his release comes and he pours himself into me. His cock spurts and dances inside me, then, with a roar of satisfaction, he pulls out.

  “Wonderful!” he exclaims. “Wonderful. Oh Charlotte, you’re a beauty. And you didn’t even ask me to stop.”

  Limp with exhaustion, rosy with afterglow and wondering how I scrape myself off the ceiling, I ask, “May I lie down Master? I’m a little tired.”

  “Of course.” My Master releases the cuffs, catching me as my now, spaghetti-like knees give way under me. Scooping me up, he places me on the bed, pours a glass of wine and thrusts it in my hands.

  “Relax girl.” he says. “You’ve had enough for one day.”

  Gulping at the wine, I enjoy the clean, sharp taste. There is no need for instruction, I am astonishingly relaxed.

  “Thank you Master. Yes, I’ve had enough for one day, but I enjoyed it. It was marvellous.” I turn to Michael, perched at the end of the bed. “And thank you too. That was wonderful.”

  A slow smile creeps over his face. He tilts his head in acknowledgement.

  The three of us settle together on the bed. After a few minutes of enjoying the wine in silence, I ask “So what comes next?”

  Michael splutters his wine over the bed and my Master bursts out laughing. “Next? What comes next?’ she asks.” raising his eyes to Heaven in mock anger.

  He swings and points a long finger at me. “What comes next is that we eat, before you wear us both out.”

  Michael breaks in. “There is a rumour Charlotte, that you were a virgin three days ago.”

  “It’s not a rumour. It’s true.” I protest. “It’s just that……It’s just that….” My voice trails off.

  “It’s just that you had a lot bottled up and you’re actually cut out for the life of anything from good-time-girl to professional courtesan.” finishes Michael for me.

  Sucking in my cheeks to avoid grinning, I return my wine in silence. Of course, he’s right. How could I have known what I am really like? I never had chance to find out with my rotten so-called ‘marriage’ and my lousy husband who never said that girls just are not for him.

  My Master interrupts my thoughts. “Would you like to go out to dinner Charlotte? Or eat in? Your choice.”

  “Err…. Eat in I think. It’s nice here.”

  “Fine, I’ll phone out for something.”

  Half an hour later the three of us are sharing crispy duck, pancakes and prawn crackers. I tuck it away. I seem to have built up an appetite.

  “To answer your question Charlotte.” breaks in my Master. “’What comes next’ is that tomorrow evening we are going out, the three of us. We have something special planned for you, but we wanted, tonight, to find out what…. what your inclinations are…”

  Through a mouthful of duck and plum sauce, I mumble “Sorry? Not with you.”

  Michael is, I note, smiling through his own pancake, but chooses to remain silent.

  “We wanted to be sure that you enjoy the ‘SM’ part of BDSM.” says my Master.

  I must still look blank, as he continues, with a touch of impatience in his voice, “We wanted to be sure that you enjoy a moderate degree of pain, under the right conditions of course.”

  The penny drops. Going out? Tomorrow? “You mean we’re going to some sort of club? A BDSM club?”

  With a well-manicured fingernail, my Master delicately picks a sliver of duck from between his teeth. “Yes. We are going to a club. To be precise, we have booked the club for the evening. There will only be the three of us plus a number of other…” he hesitates, “…selected, guests. The general public will not be there.”

  I am wondering now. “In what way selected?”

  “They were at your original auction Charlotte, most of them anyway, plus some who I know personally and who I know, understand the boundaries of what is acceptable. And don’t worry, I know, or know of, all of them. I know how they behave and I know they keep themselves clean.”

  Most of them? Plus, some he knows?

  “How many will there be Master?”

  He leans forward. “How many would you like Charlotte? You have enjoyed me and Michael together. How many men would you like to fuck you? How much money would you like to earn to put towards that college education of yours? And how far will your sense of adventure take you?”

  I gulp down more of the wine. “I trust you Master. And I need the money. Bring ‘em on.”

  _______________________________

  The following evening, having slept most of the day, I am bathed, made up, dressed to the nines and feel like a million dollars.

  My Master has been very specific about what I should wear: a black satin wrap-around skirt, held in place only with two buttons, a matching halter top, which ties at the neck and, cut low, unbuttons at the front, stockings, shoes with a heel, but not too high, chic but comfortable. My red silk panties tie at the sides. A heavy Cleopatra-style necklace. Hair up, eyes lined dark, lips deeply scarlet, expensive perfume. Looking at myself in the mirror, I feel completely fuckable.

  Michael is carrying a briefcase and I wonder what is in it.

  We take a taxi to a part of the city I do not know. Basically Medieval, modernity has over-run it and in the darkness of the evening, neon glares brilliantly at me, garish ad boards dazzle and the noise of traffic is deafening. Pulling in to the rear car park of an unfamiliar building, the noise abates and I wonder where we are going. From the front, this looked like just a parade of shops.

  My Master sees my puzzlement. “It’s in the basement.” he explains. “A part of the old town which not many people know is still here. And now, Michael, please.”

  Michael opens the briefcase, producing a red silk scarf.

  What is that for?

  The question answers itself as Michael blindfolds me. “Not too tight?” he asks.

  “No, fine.” But I feel a bit unstable.

  The two men each take me by an arm. “Just walk slowly.”
says my Master. “Don’t worry. We won’t let you fall.”

  They lead me, unseeing across the tarmac of the car park. There is the creak of a door opening. “Lift your feet a little.” says Michael’s voice. “There’s a threshold.”

  Obediently, I raise my feet a little more, then am guided through a smell of damp; not unpleasant, but musty, as though of old stonework.

  Down stairs, one step at a time, my footsteps and theirs, echoing. There is a murmur of voices ahead, several voices, but muffled; the smell of good cigars and something alcoholic. Brandy?

  Again all reason, my panties are getting moist.

  For a moment the arm supporting me to the left releases me, there is the sound of another heavy creaking door, and abruptly, the sound of voices grows much louder.