Buying the Virgin

Chapter 101: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Seventeen

MICHAEL

Immediately, I withdraw from her, but now it’s my turn. My cock slick with her juices, I ease into her ass,

watching her face from behind as I do so. James is watching too; her expression. I love taking her up

the back, so does he; but always we are careful when we do so.

But she seems comfortable, her breathing short and rapid, eyes a little glazed, but okay.

“Charlotte, am I hurting you?”

She shakes her head, still with that same dreamy expression, and now, after a couple of short, slow

test thrusts, I sheath myself inside her.

Her orgasm hasn’t fully died away. She still pulses inside, and her hips are a-quiver.…

Another one, Baby? Owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

With easy slow thrusts, I fuck her ass, but reaching around again to her clitoris, I start to work her

again. She’s moaning softly. James, seeing what’s happening, reaches in, tweaking at her nipples,

rolling and pulling. And with each movement, she trembles and shivers.

And now, she comes again, this time rising back onto her hands, face upraised as she howls her

climax.

And that’s enough for me. Irresistibly, I cum, and balls tight, I shoot into her, slamming in my load as I

bend close over her, holding her tightly at the hip and waist.

She may want me to be her ‘Golden Lover’, and for her, I will be, but still, I want to fuck my Charlotte.

*****

CHARLOTTE

It is very good of Beth to invite me out, and Richard encourages her to be my friend, but I find shopping

with her a bit surreal. It’s great fun, but the shops she uses have sky-high prices and, although my

Master always encourages me to buy something, still I don’t like taking money from him or Michael. It

doesn’t feel right.

I buy myself a pair of pretty but cheap ear-rings, paying from my own account, and keeping my

Master’s credit card firmly in my purse.

And now it is time for afternoon tea….

*****

I sit, surrounded by twittering airheads; a dozen women, all newly introduced to me, and already, I have

forgotten most of their names.

The topics of conversation involve how much their husbands are earning, hairstyles, fashion, who

might be pregnant next, how much shopping allowance their husbands give them….

Don’t any of them actually do anything?

None of them seems to have any life outside a procession of parties, entertainment and shopping. All

live in the reflected glow of their husband’s business or occupation, satellites to someone else’s reality.

What do they do all day?

It occurs to me that Michael must make quite a bit of money out of these women. As I listen, it is clear

that his Centre is a popular destination. They talk of gyms and make-overs, pamper days and

manicures, who is the best masseur….

“The handsome, blond guy…. you know the one…. with the beautiful eyes….”

Mmmm.…

I am bored rigid, trying to remain polite, and to at least appear to be paying attention to the prattling

around me. Some of the woman are lovely to look at, or at least, perfectly made up and turned out,

which often amounts to the same thing, and around us, I see male heads turned, looking in at the

group, scanning the perfect faces.

Sitting, sipping tea from fine porcelain, exchanging meaningless chit-chat with these primped and

preened ladies, nonetheless, I can’t help but notice that Beth stands out among them. Noticeably, some

of the surreptitious male admirers from around us are looking at her in particular. Although she is, like

the others, perfectly turned out and spotlessly groomed, there is, in her eyes, a spark. She, like me,

came from humble beginnings, and I know that she also had, in her own way, a fight to get to where

she is.

And does she like it now, where she is?

Our eyes meet, and she sucks in a smile, rolling her eyes at the Barbie-like, conveyor-belt-produced

beauty sitting next to her, whose current conversation centres around the best choice of polish to avoid

chipped nails.

I begin to think that I may wear my roughened hands with pride.

The tea party disperses, one after another of the Stepford Wives making her excuses and leaving.

Eventually, only Beth and I remain.

“Want something a bit stronger than tea?” she asks.

I sniff. “A glass of wine would be nice, wouldn’t it.”

We order a bottle of chilled rosé, with some nibbles to stop the alcohol sitting too heavily.

Beth looks at me. “Sorry about that,” she says. “I forget that you’re new to this. Dearly as I love

Richard, having to keep company with the wives of his business associates can be a bit wearing.”

“Mmm....” I try to be non-committal, to avoid being rude about Beth’s friends.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. It was just the same for me, as it became

clear that Richard and I were more than just….” She looks at me closely now. “You’d better get used to

it though.”

I’m startled. “What? Why?”

“You’re with James, and he’s Richard’s co-director now, his partner. You’re going to have to rub

shoulders with them too.”

I’d not thought of that….

She laughs. “Don’t panic. It’s not all the time. Just put on your best bib and tucker when they have

dinners and what-have-you, paste on your ‘polite’ face, and live your own life the rest of the time.”

An hour later, the bottle is all but empty, and it occurs to me that I really do have a kindred spirit in Beth.

She very much understands where I have come from, and she understands too, a lot of what is inside

my head. With Beth, I can unload my worries.

“I have James telling me that he doesn’t want me to go back to university next term; that it’s too

dangerous until they track down the gang members they are looking for….” I am almost in despair.

“After everything I went through to get there, and now to be told I can’t go back….”

“Have you agreed to not go back?”

“Um, no, not exactly….”

She gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. It’s only going to be temporary. Perhaps some

of your academic work could be moved around with your on-the-job training? That way it just changes

the timing of individual parts of your work, doesn’t it? Not the whole thing. If you like, I’ll talk with

Richard. I’m sure he’d help if he knew about it.” She grins, wickedly. “And you do have compensations.

After all, you’ve got two of them to play with, haven’t you.”

I laugh. She leans in, conspiratorially. “Don’t they ever get jealous of each other?”

“No, not ever. It’s never been a problem at all. The only time jealousy ever came into play was….” and I

stall. How do I tell Beth that the single real outburst of jealousy came from my Master, over my meeting

her own husband for the first time? Although, now that I think about it, his reaction to Daniel has also

rung a warning bell. I change tack.

“After the auction, I met Michael on only the second day. It’s been the two of them ever since.”

Eyes wide, she stares at me. “So, when….” Her mobile rings. “Blast!” she mutters. Answering it. “Hi,

Ross. Yes, sorry I’m late. I was just chatting with Charlotte. Yes, I’m coming now.”

She looks at me apologetically, waving over the waiter for the check. “Sorry. Gotta go. Here, this is my

treat.” She pays the bill and leaves, smiling and waving back at me as she vanishes into the crowd,

disappointed male faces following her.

*****

In Reception, having returned from my shopping trip with Beth, through the internal window I can see

my Master talking with Richard. They’re obviously busy so I pour myself a coffee and sit to read a

textbook while I wait for him.

“Dendritic structures in the cooling of cast metals….” I settle to read, making occasional notes in the

margins.

Concentrating on my book, I startle as a shadow looms over me. “Sorry,” comes my Master’s voice.

“Didn’t mean to make you jump.” His head twists as he looks to see what I am reading. “You find the

metallurgical side of things interesting?”

“Mmm, yes I do. It’s very visual, easy to think about….”

We are interrupted as Richard exits the office. “Hello, Charlotte. Not waiting too long I hope?”

“No, just a few minutes.” In fact, I have no idea how long I’ve been waiting. Long enough to work

through a couple of chapters of my book.

He turns to my Master. “Anyway, we can finish it off tomorrow and….” His phones pings. “S’cuse me….

Oh, hello Ross. No, she’s not here. I thought she was with you. No? Hold on a minute…. Charlotte, did

Elizabeth say where she was going when you parted company?”

“She said that Ross was taking her home, and she was going to meet him.”

A cloud passes over Richard’s face. “When was that?”

“Er, maybe, three o’clock.”

He checks his watch. “That’s over two hours ago.” There is urgency in his voice. He spins. “Francis….”