Star Slave (7 page)

Lucky little her, he thought with a voluptuous quiver as his imagination worked feverishly. The mystical figure was certainly something to get worked up about, on a literally monumental scale. She was not butch; the vulgarity of that word had nothing to do with her unique brand of sexuality. Yet he could not envisage her in any other role than that of dom. And how he would love to play sub to her, he acknowledged, his senses running riot He couldn't wait for the orgy to begin, if that's what they were there for. But was it? Or were they presently undergoing some kind of test, to see if they were fit for the fleshly delights which might await them? He had a feeling that his coz had already passed hers, whether the sweet thing realised it or not.

In the drawing room, where coffee and drinks were served, he found himself standing near the drinks trolley with their host. Lord B was half a head at least taller than John. He slipped his arm easily around his shoulder. ‘And how are you enjoying yourself, young fellow?' he said. ‘I can't get over how alike you and Felicity are. I took you for twins when I first saw you.'

John laughed. He felt the heaviness of the man's arm resting across him, claiming him. ‘Yes,' he said, ‘apparently people used to think that of our fathers. Though in fact daddy is almost two years older than Uncle Charles.' He glanced around again; very aware of the magnetism of the man next to him, the sensation of power he exuded like a subtle perfume. John felt both weakened and thrilled by it. ‘The ladies are all so stunning,' he observed, revealing something of the wonder in his voice.

‘And none more so than your own charming cousin,' his lordship answered at once.

John shrugged slightly, as though in demurral. ‘Who's the coloured girl over there?' he asked. ‘She's lovely.'

‘Debbie? Yes. She's only just joined us - a matter of days ago.'

Joined us? John wondered. He waited for further explanation, but there was none.

‘You like girls?' the gravelly voice went on, with a knowing smile that made John's face burn.

‘But of course,' he stammered hastily. ‘Why on earth shouldn't I?'

‘No reason,' his lordship said easily. ‘But tastes can be extremely catholic these days, can't they, my boy?' He laughed richly, and squeezed John's narrow shoulders heartily, briefly pulling him into his side. ‘You like that one in particular?' he went on. ‘I admire your taste. I'll see what I can arrange for you. Excuse me a moment.'

Minutes later, the coloured girl approached him. ‘Hi,' she said. ‘I'm Debbie. You're Felicity's cousin, aren't you? John?' She smiled unaffectedly at him. ‘Would you like to have a look round the house? I'm still learning my way around myself. There're supposed to be some priceless portraits up in the gallery.' She reached out and took his hand in an oddly innocent gesture, and together they left the room.

A little while later she stood facing him, smiling much more explicitly as she leaned back against the closed and locked door, upon which one foot rested. ‘Would you like to fuck around a little, John?' she said. ‘You look drop dead gorgeous, you know that?'

‘S-so do you!' His pulse was racing.

She continued to smile as she advanced towards him and turned seductively. ‘Undo me, please,' she whispered.

His fingers were unsteady as he located the zip fastener of her simple flowered dress and drew it down her velvety back. Her shoulders moved, the garment dropped to her hips, then with one more swift movement it fell around her feet, and she stepped out of it. She wasn't wearing any underclothes. She left her sandals inside the rumpled pool of the dress.

She pulled him towards a solid four-poster bed, the heavy crimson drapes of which were drawn around it. He noticed a thin crisscross of dark lines running over her buttocks. ‘Who did that?' he asked.

Her delicate shoulders shrugged. ‘I was a naughty girl,' she replied, and did not elucidate. She reached up to pull aside the bed curtains, and he stared with deep appreciation at the play of light and shadow on her rippling muscles. Those hollowed buttocks drew his gaze, the pale tan scratched across by those fading lines. Her hips were narrow, the cleft of her behind tightly inviting. From the back, with her slender figure and her close-cropped hair, she looked both boyish and excitingly arousing at the same time.

Hastily he shrugged off his clothing and left it scattered beside her discarded dress. She was sitting on the high bed with her legs crossed, grinning mischievously.

‘My, you
are
a pretty boy, aren't you?' she said. ‘So slim and sexy.'

He didn't know if she was mocking him, though her grin looked innocently childlike.

He growled at her, seized her by her upper arms and dragged her over. ‘I'll give you pretty boy.'

They wrestled. She fought with just enough wiry strength to make the tussle exciting before he pinned her down on her stomach. Her feet kicked up and down rapidly, drumming on the counterpane, those tempting cheeks of her bottom flexing and dimpling. He slapped it, feeling his open palm bounce on the resilient globes, and she gave a small shriek.

‘Ow! Please don't, Johnny! My bum's still sore.'

He hit her again and she yelped, pleaded with him to stop. ‘Who did it?' he said, his tone suggesting that if she didn't tell him he'd continue to spank her.

‘My boyfriend!' she gasped, pouting exaggeratedly. ‘Or rather, my ex. That's why I'm staying down here for a while. Magda fixed it.'

‘What's her story?'

He released her and she rolled over, lying on one hip and massaging her buttocks with a rueful grimace. ‘You're a bully,' she muttered childishly.

‘Magda?' she eventually went on. ‘I dunno. I've only just met her since I've been here. She seems to know all these big wheels.' He could hear the awe in her voice and feel her little quiver of sensuality. ‘She's really something, isn't she? She's wonderful!'

‘Is she a dyke?'

Her head lifted challengingly. ‘Are you a gay?'

He growled and grabbed her wrists again, and she lay back and gave a squeal of mock alarm. ‘Sorry,' she said. ‘It's just a rumour I heard, that's all.' She stared at his thickening penis. ‘I guess not, eh?' She grinned placatingly.

‘I'll give you gay!' he growled again, seizing her in earnest and rolling her over once more, and again she squealed.

‘Don't hurt me too much,' she pleaded, her voice carrying a hint of real alarm this time. He noted the ‘too much' , as though sexual games with pain were not new to her. Which they clearly weren't, judging by the stripes across her bottom. He felt his prick rear and stiffen to full erection.

He slipped his arms around her slim waist and dragged her off the edge of the bed, then turned her so she was doubled over it, face down, her feet trailing on the floor. He fitted himself into her from behind, slotted his penis along the deep cleft of her behind and felt himself throb mightily at the contact. He guided the tip of his helm, pushing into the crack, and felt the exotic cling of it against his glans. He felt her tense and heard the muffled gasp as he stabbed at the entrance to her anal passage. She thought he was going to bugger her, and for an instant he felt a savage urge to do so, revelling in the boy-like slimness, warm and squirming against him. Then he let his prick slide down, felt the tightness ease a little, and the rasp of wiry pubic hair against him as he located the moist and easier slit of her vagina, into which he ploughed deeply. She gasped, perhaps in relief, and those buttocks tightened against him once more. They lifted, spearing her onto him more firmly with jouncing eagerness.

‘Yes, lover... yes, yes!' she panted, urging him on until they were bouncing together, white on brown, lunging in unison until he came fiercely, racked by a spasm which made him cry out in an excess of rapture.

 

In his book-lined study on the first floor, Lord Burnopside was lolling back on the chaise longue. He drew on his cigar, his eyes wrinkled against the blue smoke which drifted about him. He was naked, his legs crossed. His penis, shrouded and shrunken, still seeping from its recent climax, nestled snugly at the conflux of belly and thighs.

He stared at Magda's exotic figure, shown to full advantage in the skintight body shaper which, held by a bootlace-thin strap fastened at the back of her neck, clung like a shining black skin to her breasts, the nipples poking entrancingly in silhouette against the fine material. The crotch was cut so high that the pale crease of her thighs and belly showed at either side, without even one stray curl to betray a bikini line. At the rear the garment was lost entirely in the divide of her buttocks, the proudly jutting cheeks thus exposed. She was busily cleaning her face and hands at the small washbasin in one corner of the room.

‘How are our media guests?' his lordship asked. ‘All customers satisfied, I hope?'

‘I think so, my lord. Ally's bedded down with Sir Hugh and that broker chap he brought along. That prick of a cameraman will be well into Marie-Angele by now. And I think Joanne went along to keep them company.'

‘What about our two beautiful babes in the wood? Who's the boy with?'

Magda gave her deep chuckle. ‘You saw him and young Debs when they came back from their time-out. They can't take their eyes off each other. It must be young love.'

‘I only hope he appreciates her.'

Magda nodded confidently. ‘Oh, I'm sure he will. He's like his cousin. They're both swingers. Bi as they come.' Lord B quivered with desire, despite his detumescence. ‘What's she really like? Is she as exquisite as she looks?' He reached down involuntarily, cupped his clammy prick in his palm, and pressed it hard.

Magda gave him a broad grin. ‘And more. You're quite right about her. I think she'd be ideal for one of us. She's got that waifish look of innocence. She's childlike, but with that hint of decadence, you know. I'm in love with her already.' She laughed throatily. ‘I'm not gay!' she mimicked in Felicity's breathless squeak, fluttering her long black eyelashes. ‘And there she was, with her pants round her ankles and her little pussy dripping like a wet sponge!' She laughed again. ‘I'm off to get really butch with her now.'

‘Damn.' Lord B sighed. ‘I almost wish I'd never signed her up for
Woman's Touch
now. The publicity's going to be enormous. They won't leave her alone. Or Stella, who's well and truly in her bed now, by the way.'

Magda's confidence did not waver. ‘Don't worry. We'll soon have that blonde cow out of there. And that straight twat of a fiance. It won't matter how famous she is. She'll be one of us - trust me.'

‘Where are you having her tonight? I'd like to see it.' His lordship's eyes gleamed and his penis stirred from its nest.

‘Right. There's no one in the Hunting Room. You get yourself in the cubbyhole, my lord, and I'll bring her along in about fifteen minutes.'

 

Felicity stared about her at the high, shadowy room, with the gilt framed pictures of the hunting scenes covering every wall. She shivered for, beneath her long silk dressing gown, she was naked. ‘It's all a bit overpowering,' she murmured.

‘We won't be disturbed here,' Magda said. She bent and lit the gas fire, which looked out of place in the wide hearth with its ornate marbled surrounds. Its rosy glow -and immediate warmth was cheering. ‘The bed's not made up, and it'll be damp as hell. Let's get cosy here.' She pulled down the heavy cushions and spread them on the thick rug before the fire. ‘Now. Let me look at you. I can't wait any longer.' She tugged at the sash at Felicity's waist, and though she gave a cry of protest, the girl made no effort to stop her. The gown opened, and Magda brushed it from her shoulders. The firelight bathed the slim body, while Felicity stood there, enchantingly modest, her hands moving in front of her loins.

‘I thought his lordship was going to have a go,' she said, her face troubled. ‘You know. Try to get me to... to sleep with him tonight.'

‘And would you mind, sugar?'

Felicity registered her outrage. ‘I'm not a tart, you know,' she cried, her voice shrill. ‘I don't sleep around. I've a fiance, and we're going to be married...'

‘And Stella Priest,' Magda said easily. ‘You're shacking up with her, aren't you? Doesn't your boyfriend mind about that?'

Felicity's face and throat crimsoned. She looked at the tall figure helplessly. ‘He doesn't know,' she quietly admitted. ‘He'd be horrified. I didn't mean it to happen.' She pulled a face of youthful misery. ‘It just sort of... I meant it earlier, what I said. I'm not really gay. It's—'

‘Weren't,' Magda prompted gently, drawing forth another blush. ‘What you really mean, sugar, is that you're hi. You swing both ways.'

Felicity gazed at her. She made a little gesture of uncertainty, her confusion mute this time. The soft glow of the gas lit her slim young body, showing the little dark patch of her pubis. Tears sparkled in her dark eyes.

‘You can have the best of both, baby,' Magda breathed sensually. As she spoke, she untied her own robe, and Felicity gave a gasp of shock, for the superb figure was magnificently naked, except for a small black triangle fitted snugly to her loins, from which a thin strap snaked round both hips to meet the equally slim strap which appeared from the cleft of her bottom. From the centre of the triangle, which seemed to be made of shiny leather or plastic, jutted an ebony black phallus, not shaped in the likeness of a human penis, but entirely smooth, without the suggestion of a helm. It curved upward in a slight bow, and was about five inches in length.