Buying the Virgin

Chapter 32: The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Thirty-Two

Standing behind, arms curved around me, he strokes my stomach, caresses and cups my breasts, and

a hundred eyes follow his motions. The air is not cold, but a slight draught blows cool over me, raising

my nipples, puckering them tight. My Master rolls one between forefinger and thumb, whilst the other

hand quests south.

With a start, I know what he is doing. This is a reflection of our mirrored conversation of the previous

day, but now with no mirror, just the audience, watching my Master take his pleasure with me.

Trembling with nerves and a little chill, nonetheless, my pussy exudes a liquid heat and my thighs are

dampening, my hot juices trickling. Lips parting as my breathing increases further, my chest beginning

to heave, I flush in anticipation of what…?

My eyes roll sidelong to the array of whips and lashes, to the flogger my Master selected.

“Michael. If you would.”

Michael produces a tie from his pocket, a black silky scarf which he binds around my left wrist, then

also, my right wrist, with a second silken cloth. He leads me by my bound wrists to the padded horse.

“Bend forward Charlotte,” he whispers.

He ties each wrist to either end of the bench, leaving my arms splayed and bound. Arranging me, he

presses my face, cheek-side-down against the padding so I can see only obliquely, to one side. My

hips and legs, he pulls outwardly. My ass, he lifts, to be displayed and accessible, parting my cheeks

and folds, to reveal my wet, pink entrance. His final move is to push my ankles apart,

My Master trails the tresses of the flogger over the contour of my spine to my face. Lingering and soft,

the sensation is exotic, erotic, and I shiver.

He murmurs, “Charlotte, if this gets close to your limits, you say ‘Yellow’. If it becomes too much, you

say ‘Red’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’re sure? You stop this at any time. You simply say ‘Yellow’ or ‘Red’.”

“Yes, Master. I understand.”

He strokes my hair, which trails in a long, foxy fall from the padded bench, then, moving around me,

draws the tails along from my shoulders, to the curve of my waist and hip.

A pause, a sharp flick, and the soft lashes kiss my thighs. NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

I quiver, my lips parting as my breathing increases to panting. Another lash licks across my buttocks.

This is not painful; only…. stimulating. My folds swelling, pussy lips opening, I well up from within, a

sense of well-being and of other-worldliness….

The tresses trail my skin, over my shoulders and neckline, before another, sharper strike of the lash

across my thighs. It stings, but my pussy warms my clit shudders.

Breathing ever more heavily, I move my legs to a more comfortable position, but my Master, hooking

his shoe around my ankles, parts my feet further. The leather tresses lash along my lower back,

between my buttocks, sparking against the soft inner skin.

Face down, looking sideways on, I cannot see my Master, but Michael is watching me, his eyes

alternately fixed on my face, and watching my reactions as the tails come down.

The lash swipes across my buttocks again, harder now, the stroke biting in, and, as my pussy freely

flows, I bite my lower lip. The strange ethereal feeling blooms, an inner glow that laves my body and

brain and shivering cunt. The snap of the lashes and the tingling sting on my skin is supremely erotic.

And somehow…. calming….

My hips quiver and jerk under the flogger, my Master’s strokes becoming harder each time. Should I

speak? At some level, I feel that this should hurt, and it does, but I embrace the pain as it transmutes to

pleasure and a growing inner desire. With each stroke, I gasp, jolting as the whip burns in, but I have

no urge to stop this.

The tails snap inside my thighs, flaring against my clit and my swollen folds, scalding in. My body

heaves and judders, but dreamlike, I feel no desire to cease the pain. Instead, the sense of warmth, of

serenity, washes over me.

Michael, still watching me, tilts his head of a sudden, eyes widening, looking at me closely. He steps

forward, taking me by the chin. “Charlotte? Charlotte…. Say something to me.”

I don’t wish to speak, but now, the lashing has ceased, and my Master, coming around to look at my

face, remains silent, stroking my mouth with a finger, then kissing me on the lips.

Between them, they untie me from the horse and, lifting me, limp and compliant, onto the large bed, lie

me gently on my back.

“Master?”

“Yes, Charlotte?”

“I want you inside me.”

He smiles, unbuttons his shirt and steps out of his jeans. Michael follows suit.

My Master whispers “Open your legs, Charlotte. Let me in.” And dreamily, I raise and part my knees.

As he lies between my thighs, my Master’s cock pushes at my engorged entrance, easing inside, and I

cry out at the incredible sensation as he enters me. As he penetrates, my body welcomes him, pulsing

and trembling, an electric response that seethes through me in a bubbling, brimming surge towards

orgasm.

Michael sits to one side of us, stroking my face. His cock sits high against his stomach, quivering in

time to his own heartbeat, and to the rocking movement of the bed under my Master’s thrusting.

My climax comes quickly, rising from my glowing depths, to pulse waves through my core and thighs. I

almost weep as I hug close to my Master’s chest, at the exquisite gift that he gives me. My scalding

cunt clutches and throbs, as I arch and scream.

Above me, eyes soft in his stern face, still moving within me, my Master watches as my orgasm

passes, before, his own climax arising, his head drops and he murmurs something soft as he spurts

into me.

Immediately, he withdraws, rolls away from me, and Michael takes his place, smoothly penetrating my

already slick passage. Despite having already climaxed, my pussy clenches at him as he enters me,

my Golden Lover, thrusting with slow steady movements of his long beautiful cock. He is so gentle,

stroking my face, kissing my breasts, massaging my shoulders with his strong hands as he builds to his

own climax.

Eyes squeezed closed, he gasps and jerks as he comes, grinding into me, pressing tight and filling me

with his creamy stream.

Stated and gasping, he lies still, deep inside me, for a long moment, before, heaving himself away from

me, he rolls aside,

“Come on, Charlotte. Let’s get you home.” says my Master.

Between them, the two men raise me to a standing position, button the beautiful dress back onto me,

and then Michael, sliding his arms under me, lifts me; carrying me through the crowded watchers, out

of the building back to the car. He places me on the rear seat and then gets in beside me, his arms

clasped around me.

The cool outside air jolts me awake again. Shaking my head to disperse my strange, dreamlike state,

“Are we going home?”

“We are.” says my Master from the driver’s seat. “How do you feel Charlotte?”

“Um, I’m fine. A bit odd that’s all. I’m not sure what happened to me there, but I’m fine really.”

Michael turns my face to his, looking at me carefully. “Yes, you are alright.” And he kisses me on the

forehead.

My Master twists backwards briefly to look at me, and at Michael, then nods and returns to his driving.

Back in the apartment, despite my protests, I am put to bed.

I am not sleepy. I insist on sitting up, so Michael, speechlessly, presses a mug of hot chocolate into my

hands, quietly laughing as he does so, then sits on the bed beside me.

“What happened back there?” I demand.

“It happens sometimes in those situations.” says my Master, perched on the bed-edge to the other side.

“A combination of sexual arousal and reaction to pain produces endorphins in the brain….” He sees my

blank expression. “The brain’s pleasure chemicals….” he explains. “It can produce a sort of trance.

Some call it ‘sub-space’. You went in there faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“And you’ve seen a few, Master?”

He gives me a long look. “Yes, Charlotte. I’ve seen a few, as has Michael.”

Hugging my mug of chocolate, I wonder how much I can safely say. How much do I want to say?

“Master?”

“Mmm?”

“Marcie said….”

He and Michael glance at each other. He gives me a long look. “Marcie said…. What?”

I gulp down some of the chocolate, then gasp at my burned tongue. My Master takes the mug from my

hand, placing it on a side-table.

“Marcie said what?”