Buying the Virgin

Chapter 66: The Girl Who Came Back - Chapter Twenty-Two

I moan my arousal, and my growing need to be fucked.

My cunt is afire. Chilled fingers probe inside me and, hips bucking, I gush scalding juices.

“Oh God, fuck me, one of you, please.”

There are twin chuckles and my Master, with his voice like wild silk, says, “You’ll have to ask more

nicely than that….”

“Please…. Please, I want you inside me. Please.”

The chilled fingers (whose?) enter me again, this time rubbing against my sweet spot (Ah…. Michael…

his forte…), and my knees give entirely. Dropping, my weight on my wrists, the cuffs clasp me tightly,

preventing me from falling.

Michael stands, pressing himself against me, his perfume of pine and sex and clean masculinity filling

my nostrils. His erection presses against my stomach as, clasping me at the hips, parting my knees

with his, he swings me up, lifting me. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around him as, hitching me up to a

better grip, he plunges inside me.

I wail as he rams me inside, stretching me wide, my inner muscles clenching around his thick cock, my

pussy streaming and hot. Behind me, my Master supports my back, holding me at the waist, taking

some of my weight, as Michael pumps me.

Volcanically aroused, rocking my body to meet my Golden Lover, to match him, I ride the wave.

Thrusting to take him, our bodies colliding, we fuck our way to climax. As the rush takes me, I howl,

aware that Michael is also cumming. His body juddering against mine, his head is bowed towards me

as he groans, spilling himself inside me.

Almost immediately, my Master, his hands still at my waist, pulls me free of Michael, and upright,

standing me safely. He fumbles for a moment at the cuffs, unlooping the rope, releasing my arms from

their raised position.

He and Michael change places, Michael behind me, my Master before me. Tottering slightly, I would

still fall, but Michael supports me, gently lowering me. Hands on my shoulders guide me down.

Michael’s voice, “Kneel for your Master.”

On my knees, still blind and fettered, I hover uncertainly, but Michael’s hands on my shoulders steady

me. He sweeps my hair around behind my shoulders, then entwines one hand into it, gripping me,

controlling me.

I scent my Master. He is very close. The warm pungency of his groin swirls around my face, his cock

pushing at my lips.

The grip on my hair tightens. “Let him in, Charlotte.”

I part my lips, licking at the salty trickle there. Michael’s voice again, “Open wider. Do your duty by your

Master.”

My Master is tremblingly hard, huge in my mouth. Bound as I am, I can do nothing but receive him, as

he eases in and out of me. Michael rocks my head to his rhythm, matching me to his pace. As I try to

suck, to encircle him with my lips, fluid streams a delicately briny trail over my tongue.

I feel the pulsing first, hear the groan from above. The shaft engorges, stiffens, and hot cum fills my

mouth. For a moment, thrusting forward, my Master’s cock threatens to block my throat, before

withdrawing, pumping its load into me.

I cannot swallow properly. My mouth filled, I splutter and gag, hot cum escaping my lips to trickle down

my face, and hot droplets splash down onto my breasts.

With a gasp, my Master pulls free. Fingers work at the cuffs. More fingers unbind my eyes, and I blink

in the dim/blindingly brilliant candlelight.

Both men smiling down at me, I am offered hands, helping me up. Michael dresses me, sliding me

back into the dress, rebuttoning me at the neck.

My Master spots the remains of the wine. “Refill anyone?”

*****

The following day, back at the office:

“Have you ever taken meeting minutes, Charlotte?”

“No, I haven’t, Sir.”

“You’re starting now. I want you to sit in on this.” Haswell waves me over to a chair at the far end of the

conference table.

As a dozen or so people gather around the table, I start jotting down a note of their names.

One man sits about halfway along the table. Short and tubby, for some reason, he looks familiar, and

as I look up, for a moment there is a flash of semi-recognition, then he looks away, as though he also

thinks that he knows me. I chew my lip, trying to place his face, then dismiss it as the meeting

assembles.

Haswell sits at the head of the table, my Master beside him. The content of the meeting is mundane

enough, but I find it useful and interesting, as I learn the roles of the people involved, timetables for

work, scheduling for supplies and plans. It is easy enough to keep up with my note-taking.

The man I think I recognise keeps glancing across at me, frowning slightly, then suddenly, he looks up,

straight at me, smiling. I don’t care for the smile. There is a twisted quality to it.

Then he looks away, and I jolt my attention back to the meeting, continuing with my writing.

After the meeting breaks up, I wander through to Reception. “Francis, have you got an old set of

minutes I can use as a template to lay out these notes?”

“No problem. I’ll be back in a minute.”

The other attendants at the meeting drift past me and out. My Master remains in the office with

Haswell, talking. But the tubby man hangs back in the lobby, waiting for the others to leave.

“It is you, isn’t it?” he says. “I knew I recognised you.”

“Hello,” I say. “I’m sorry, I know we’ve met before somewhere, but I can’t think where…”

“Oh, but I remember where. We’ve not actually met as such, Charlotte, but I bid for you last year.”

With a jolt, the memory returns the short, fat man who was knocked out of the bidding by my Master.

He comes up close to me, too close. His breath is sour, and he smirks as he talks. He reaches towards

me, one finger almost stroking me in the hollow of my neck. I back away. He turns my stomach.

“I was outbid for you, although I got another girl instead. I did her good you know, and I’d still like to do

you. What d’you say? I’ll pay you of course since you’re in that line of work.”

“Push off,” I say. “I’m not interested.”

Through the internal window, I see my Master looking across at me, concern on his face.

The man continues. “As I see it, you’re going to say ‘Yes’ anyway, but if you make me work too hard for

it, you won’t get paid. You’re working for Haswell now, right? I wonder what he’d say if he knew what

his staff get up to outside office hours?”

He taps me with a finger, on the side of my cheek. “Think about it eh? I’ll be around again.”

My Master steps into the lobby. “Charlotte, is everything alright?”

“Um, yes, fine. I’ll tell you later. You get back to what you’re doing.”

He hesitates, clearly wanting to inquire further, but then disappears back into the office.

Francis returns with a file. “Here you are Charlotte. You can see they use the red markers for ‘Actions’,

blue for ‘Notes for the Attention of…….’”

*****

I produce the minutes, which seem to be done well enough to draw no comment from anyone at all,

and a couple of days later, I am called back in to act as meeting secretary again. The short, fat man is C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

there. He looks smug as he walks past me, staring at me, and trying to hold my gaze. I look away.

Again, after the meeting has broken up, he hangs back, waiting to catch me by myself.

“Hello again, Charlotte. I was looking forward to running into you again. Have you thought about what I

was saying the other day?”