Buying the Virgin Box Set Four - The Virgin and the Masters: BDSM, Punishment, and Ménage between a Young Woman, her Master and her Lover

by Simone Leigh

  I still hear the chopping, and I follow the sound.

  Passing through the kitchen; at last…. an area that seems to be a functioning room. An add-on to the main house, it has a tiled floor, a ceiling and, looking out and up, a roof too. There is a door beyond, perhaps leading outside, and another to… who knows where? A scullery perhaps? Tables and chairs gather around an old cast iron range, set into an inglenook, and blazing with heat. A single, unlit, light-bulb dangles from a cord in the ceiling. I flick a wall switch in a mood of experiment, but the bulb remains firmly off.

  An old stone sink looks antiquated, but functional. Checking the faucet, the water spurts. Of course, once of a time, the kitchen was the heart of many houses, and so this is now.

  Despite the ruin and dilapidation, it is quite beautiful.

  The sound of chopping is loud now. I follow it through a back door and outside, into a shed area where, despite the December chill, stripped to the waist, jeans tightly belted, and skin gleaming with perspiration, is Michael, my Golden Lover, bringing an axe down on a timber block, splitting it to firewood. As each piece splits, he repositions it and strikes again, gradually reducing slices of tree trunk to useable firewood.

  He doesn’t notice me, and I simply stand quietly, watching him, enjoying the view. As he swings the axe, in a long arc over his head, muscles ripple and play under his tanned skin. His blond hair is slicked down over his head with sweat, and his brow furrowed in concentration, as he targets the wood with the blade, splitting it, then tossing the stove-lengths onto a growing heap to one side.

  He looks like a god. My bronzed, blond Apollo....

  And I gaze on, for the sheer pleasure of watching him move, male beauty in motion, sheer poetry.

  Having reduced one tree core to useable pieces, he moves to pick up the next, placing it on his timber anvil. And now, he sees me, his face lighting up.

  “Charlotte!”

  Dropping the axe, he strides over, sweeping me into his arms, his eyes alight.

  “I didn’t hear you arrive. I was trying to have everything ready for you.”

  “I can see that.” I grin. “Looks like you’ve got the house toasty warm for us.”

  “I wanted you to come Home.” His expression is a puzzle; longing, love, hope, enthusiasm, sadness. “I wanted you to…. to have a place to call your own.”

  And then he is on me, his arms encircling me, his mouth fastened on mine.

  I love him. I want him. And my body wants him.

  He breaks the kiss, looking down at me, a speculative look in his eye. “Yes?” he says.

  My heart pounding - I have seen too little of my Golden Lover in the past few weeks - I cast an eye over our surroundings. “Um, yes, but here?”

  He grins, beckoning me with his eyes.

  “Er, no, not here….” Taking me by the hand, smiling all the while, he leads me back into the kitchen, opening the unidentified door I spotted. And beyond is….

  The chamber is basic in the extreme; four walls, a ceiling and a bed. But a fire burns brightly in a hearth, on the wall to the rear of the kitchen range when I think about it, and there are candles everywhere. Only one or two are lit, but Michael moves around the room with a taper, lighting one candle off the last, until light glimmers golden with candle and firelight.

  The bed is huge, and thickly blanketed.

  “I couldn’t get the house properly ready for you.” he says, apologetically. “I wanted to, but there simply wasn’t time. But I was able to get it to the point that we can eat, and sleep and make love.”

  The room, bare though it is, is beautiful. And I see from the hope in his eyes that he wants me to like it.

  “It’s lovely.” I say. “Um…. have we a bathroom?”

  He hesitates. “You see all those trees and bushes out there?”

  I’ve got to pee outside?!?

  Then he cracks out laughing. “Gotcha!” And I laugh too, wondering how much of a joke I am laughing at.

  He straightens his face. “It’s not great.” he admits. “But you can walk right through to the hotel and use the bathrooms there if you want to. Or there’s an old privy out the back. I’ll have to dig a new pit for it though, until we get some proper plumbing in.”

  “Right…. Um… A shower?”

  “Did you see the tin bath hanging off a nail in the kitchen?”

  This should be interesting….

  “Hope you’re happy roughing it for a bit?” he asks, anxiety in every word. “I so wanted it to be perfect for you, but….”

  Words won’t do for this. I step close, flowing into him, my fingers in his hair, my lips on his. “It is perfect. You’re here. I’m here. And….”

  “Yes…” he says. “James will be here too, later.”

  Then he stops to kiss me, and the world is a warm and wonderful place.

  Despite the fire, the room is chilly. “Don’t get cold. Get into the bed.” he mutters, his voice husky. “I’ll just go bolt the door. Don’t want any interruptions.”

  By the time Michael returns, only a minute or so later, I have peeled off layers of winter clothes and am between the sheets, having found waiting for me, half a dozen hot water bottles.

  He smiles, sheepishly. “It’ll be warm enough once we’re both in there.”

  I lie back, watching him as he undresses, unbelting his jeans, shrugging them off to climb between the sheets with me.

  He looks embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I should have been able to shower first.” he says.

  “Don’t be silly.” I stretch out a hand to him. “You’ve been working, hard, on building our home. You’re fine.” And he is. He smells wonderful, of hard work, clean sweat and warm masculinity.

  My Golden Lover….

  “It’s too long a time apart from you. I just want to touch you. To be inside you.” he whispers.

  “And that’s what I want too.”

  His lips lower to my breasts, slowly, tantalisingly. His skin is cold, but his breath scalds across my skin, my nipples puckering. His arms, one around my midriff, one about my shoulders, pull me in tightly, contouring my curves to his harder, muscled body. Again, his fingers are chilled, sending a frisson scampering up through me and drawing a warm response from deep inside my core.

  His nails, rough and hard, dig, point-like into my spine, drawing little gasps from me and sending my pussy into a liquid meltdown.

  His body is sleek and hard against mine, his erection pressing against my thigh. I feel electrified, heady; and the tremor inside me brooks no denial.

  “Inside me. I want you inside me.”

  His blue eyes are intense, lustrous in the candlelight, wide pupiled as he moves to sink his cock into me. Already wet for him, more than ready after our long parting, I spread myself wide, willing him inside me. I know that, always, he fears that I love only my Master, not him.

  “I want you. I love you. I’ve waited for you.” I murmur. “Make love to me. Fuck me.”

  His eyes widen, and as he slowly penetrates me, I move to take him, swinging my hips to meet him, to match him, as gradually, he presses inside me.

  His face lying on the pillow by mine. “Charlotte….” He almost breathes the word….

  He moves within me, slowly at first, to a rocking rhythm, which I match, meeting him. This is lovemaking at its most simple. Two people, one within the other, the meeting of flesh, the meeting of souls; my Golden Lover and I, as we rock and love and fuck our way to climax.

  He thrusts harder, more forcefully, and again, I match him, swinging my hips up to take him as deeply as I am able. His cock ramming into me, balls banging against me, our bodies colliding, slamming, each against the other….

  He is shuddering, sweating. I know he is struggling for control, to hold himself for me to come first.

  And it won’t be long….

  Orgasm, coiled within me, quiescent, for too long, strains for expression. With Michael’s cock within me, stretching me, filling me, my pussy quivers and wells.
My thighs tremble. My belly shudders….

  And my climax unfurls and surges, rising through me, rippling in waves as, crying out, I grip onto Michael, fingers digging in to his skin, winding into his hair. As I arch and strain against him, he holds me tight, his own climax close.

  Almost as I relax, he groans, dropping his face to my chest, sighing as he spurts into me.

  After a few seconds, still deep inside me, he pulls himself up onto his elbows, looking down at me.

  He is dripping with sweat. Casting around, he is looking, I think, for a towel. There isn’t one, and he settles for wiping his forehead on the sheets. “I’ll definitely be prioritising improving the facilities.” he comments. He looks worried. “Can you handle this?”

  “It’s great.” I say.

  He looks sceptical.

  “No, really. It is.” I stroke his face. “As long as we’re all together, it’s fine. It looks as though we have all the necessities. Anything else can come later. And I can see how lovely it’s going to be.”

  He flushes with relief. “Glad you feel that way. I wasn’t sure how my bride-to-be would react, when she saw that she’d be living in a building site.”

  I shrug it off. “I’ve lived in worse.”

  He turns serious. “So, you have.”

  Time to lighten the mood….

  “Want to give me the guided tour? I couldn’t look inside the house before. It was too dangerous. It looks as though you have it all opened up now.”

  His smile blossoms. “I’d love to. Um, get plenty of clothes on. It’s cold out there…”

  ____________________________

  My Master arrives. I stand outside as he pulls up, and he smiles as he sees me. Stepping out of the car, he wraps his arms around me, brushing his lips against mine.

  “Welcome home.” he whispers. “Um, not too private here, are we?” Looking around, curious faces are watching us through the hotel windows, various workmen looking out.

  To Hell with them….

  We walk, hand in hand, through to the house. During the day, I have done battle with the kitchen range, effectively enough to produce a decent casserole. If I stick with ‘one pot cooking’ we should eat well from here. The three of us sit, sharing a meal, over wine and candlelight.

  My Master glances up. “When can we expect electricity?”

  Michael rocks his hand. “I’m hoping we’ll have it for Christmas.” Then he looks over at me. “Sorry Charlotte. I just couldn’t….”

  I cut him off. “It’s perfect. Don’t worry about it. We’re together. That’s the main thing.”

  He smiles, and settles, wineglass in hand, simply watching me, gazing at me as though there is nothing else in the world to look at.

  After a while it becomes a bit embarrassing. “Um, I’m not going to dissolve if you look away, you know.”

  My Master snorts a laugh. “You’ll have to forgive him, Charlotte. Michael has worked every waking hour on the house since the day he got the keys. He’s been looking forward to your arriving here.”

  I reach out a hand to each of them, holding fingers. “Me too. I did as much work as I could back at college, so that we could enjoy being together.”

  I see that eye-lock thing they have, their eyes meeting, and I know that I’m about to be fucked six ways to Tuesday….

  And Michael’s only just……

  Then my Master looks at me, his lips curved in that almost-smile of his, and jerks his thumb towards the bedroom. “In there, I think, Madam.”

  The bedroom is warmer now, the heat of the kitchen range percolating through the wall. I stand next to the bed, sandwiched between them.

  Michael looks down at me. “Strip.” he says.

  Strip? He’s never put it like that before.

  “Strip?”

  My Master leans close. “Michael wants to get his cock into your mouth, and I want to fuck your cunt, so…. strip.”

  And my pussy floods.

  Their eyes meet again. Both smiling, they look smug, having obviously pre-arranged this between themselves. I could neck them when they do that, but my pussy is growling for attention, and they both know it.

  Business-like, I strip, pulling off layers of pullovers, removing boots, jeans and thick socks. Neither of them makes a move, or touches me, until, as I stand naked before them, suddenly they lunge, grabbing me by the arms, and they pull me, shrieking with laughter, onto the bed.

  Michael pinning my arms over my head, my Master produces rope from his pocket, tying my hands, tethering me to posts of the bedhead.

  Has he had it there all the time?

  Of course, he has….

  Wrists bound tight to the bed, I am pulled back down the mattress, the two of them tugging me at the ankles until my arms are stretched taut, and my belly and thighs tremble in anticipation. My breath is already shaky and my pussy is going into overdrive.

  I want to be fucked…….

  ……again….

  Naked and immobilised, I watch them as, standing at the end of the bed, where I can see them both, they undress, each looking down at me; my Master with his non-smiling smile, eyes crinkled at the corners, Michael, soft-eyed, his smile, very white against his tanned face.

  My tall, dark-eyed Master strips off his tie, removes cuff-links, unbuttons his immaculate white shirt, and peels it off to reveal his long, lean torso. Well-muscled and firm, tight waisted, with a fine scattering of dark hair over his chest that narrows to a tight line leading below his belt, he kicks off shoes, peels off socks, then pauses for Michael, my Golden Lover.

  Michael also watches me as he undresses, his blue eyes holding mine as he pulls a thick sweater and undershirt over his head, and off. Not so tall as my Master, but more heavily built, he is broader in the shoulder, his muscles, strap like, his abdomen flat and well-defined.

  Both stripped to the waist, bare-footed, they gaze down on me, making me wait as I quiver and gasp.

  Michael pulls something from his pocket; a black silk scarf. I have seen it before. He uses it as a blind-fold.

  Yes, they planned this together….

  Pulling a pillow behind my head, he props me up a little, then binds the scarf around my eyes. “Not too tight?” he murmurs.

  “No, I’m fine, but please…. don’t make me wait too long.…”

  He chuckles, pressing a finger to my lips.

  Blind now, I must take my cues from other senses. Michael is still close to me; his clean scent of pine and spice washing over me in waves as he moves. He straddles my chest, massaging my shoulders and breasts with strong hands, working my neck and head with his finger-tips.

  My Master parts my legs, opening me at the knee and thigh. Fingers peeling my pussy lips apart, his hot breath washes over me, and I would writhe and wriggle, but with Michael’s weight pinning me, I cannot move.

  Fingers broach my pussy, testing my wetness I think, then withdraw. There is a pause….

  One of their non-speaking conversations…?

  Yup.

  Michael moves from atop me, lying alongside instead. He nibbles at a nipple, sending electric dancing along nerve-endings to tantalise my clit. Simultaneously, teeth tug slowly at my labia, and a finger penetrates my back passage.

  I am so ready for this. Despite my earlier tumble with Michael, several weeks of almost complete abstinence have left me primed. Already ascending a short spiral to orgasm, I smile to myself at the thought of how much of this the three of us will be doing over the next month.

  “That’s a nice smile.” says Michael softly. “We must be doing something right, eh?”

  I can barely move, but I reach with my face, trying to find him, and his lips meet mine, open mouthed, his tongue sliding over my teeth.

  As we kiss, his fingers pluck and tease at my puckered nipples, and my clit is being gently tortured by another warm tongue.

  Hips a-tremble, my pussy begins to shudder, the heat within blooming outwards into orgasm and… it stops….

  The t
ongue withdraws, the mouth leaves mine, and my nipples are abandoned.

  And my orgasm recedes and fades, leaving me twitching and panting.

  And the two of them go silent, for a long count.

  Just as I am beginning to worry, I am touched again. Michael’s hand, palm flat to my belly, slides south, fingers winding through my wet curls until one presses over my clit. His mouth settles once more over my breast, his teeth be-devilling my nipples.

  A tongue probes into my pussy, deeply, wiping out inside around the ring of muscle, and to the rear, I am ass-fucked by a single finger. At all my most sensitive points, I am worked and probed and ….

  The sheer tide of sensation is irresistible, and my climax rises again, my core vibrating upwards to a pulse……

  And, once more, it stops.

  Oh God….

  Feverishly panting now. “Hey Guys. C’mon. I need to come…”

  There are only two soft chuckles in reply. My breath judders as, once more, it begins. I am losing track of who is doing what. Fingers wind circles around my clitoris. More fingers probe and scrape within me at my g-spot. Now, there is something inside me to the back, vibrating, sending ripples through to my aching cunt. My hips judder and jerk under this assault of sensation.

  Again, my tormenting orgasm wells, hot and pulsating from within. Straining now against my bonds, my whole body taut with the desire for orgasm…. and…. and…. It stops. Even the vibe is quickly removed.

  I could weep with frustration.

  “Oh god, please, let me come. Let me come.”

  My Master’s voice, smooth as cream. “Ask nicely.” There are other sounds.

  Undressing?

  “Please, Master. Please. Let me come.” My pussy is gushing hot, my thighs wet with my own juices, the sheets below me, damp. My whole body is quaking now with the need to come.

  He doesn’t reply immediately. Then, “What do you think Michael? Do we let her come yet?”

  “Not yet. I think we can do another round or two. I’m enjoying watching this. Charlotte….” He briefly kisses my lips…. “You look fantastic. I want to watch you quiver a bit longer yet. Then, I’m going to put my cock in your mouth, and, whatever you don’t swallow, you’re going to get over your face and tits. And I think that James would like you really liquid, for when he has his mouth wrapped around your cunt when you do come…. When we let you come….”