The Mammoth Book of Short Erotic Novels (26 page)

Amanda gave Vicki a playful pinch. Perhaps she was seeking to remind her of the happy hours they had spent tangled up in each other’s bodies while John kissed and stroked them gently. Time
had slowed down while they spent hours feasting upon each other, lapping happily at each other’s clefts while John tried not to feel jealous at their obvious pleasure in each other. He
didn’t quite succeed, of course – indeed, not by a rather large margin – but managed instead to console himself with the thought that he would be able to store this memory away
for future reference. He knew he would return often to this memory to trigger off afternoon bouts of solo play.

As to whether they could really have cleansed her of the memory of her former partner, John was more sceptical. Perhaps it wasn’t possible to wipe out years of conditioning in one session.
With a smile he remembered the strategy of expensive shrinks; what she obviously needed was more of their special therapy, a series of lengthy sessions in which the patient may not be cured but the
therapists would certainly be enriched.

The women vanished for a moment. John could hear whispering and giggling and the occasional passionate kiss, but that was not enough to enable him to guess what might happen next.

“Close your eyes, John,” ordered Amanda. “We are ready to start.”

The first thing he heard was two pairs of high heels clicking over the stone floor of the cellar until they were close to him. He could sense perfume, body heat and the individual scent of their
bodies. As Amanda put her gloved hand in his mouth, he nuzzled on the proffered fingers gratefully, groaning out loud as the moment of truth approached.

But he would have to wait. With an affectionate pat on his head and a softly whispered, “Down, boy,” the fingers were removed. Amanda was still more concerned with Vicki.

“This is the last lesson in your training, my dear,” Amanda said. “We have started to banish your last master. Rome was not built in a day but I hope you are learning to stand
on your own two feet, free of the pernicious influence of you know who. ‘Master George’, indeed! You should be walking all over men, not taking orders from them. John! Look at
Vicki’s new toy.”

John opened his eyes to see Amanda gently flicking the end of a strap-on phallus which Vicki was wearing. As the rubber dildo bobbed up and down, the women shared a conspiratorial smile. John
felt edgy and anxious, but nothing worth having came without some effort or discomfort. He would just have to hope he was up to the coming ordeal.

“It’s lovely,” said Vicki, running her hand over the realistically sculpted veins on the hard rubber phallus. “But I want a bigger one.”

“Don’t we all, dear?” said John. He shared a smile with Vicki, then turned to look at Amanda.

“Who asked you?” she said. Her lips twitched briefly but she was not happy about John’s unsolicited comment. They had often clashed about the importance of staying in their
defined roles. In John’s view, she should lighten up occasionally. And if his behaviour was really so unbearable, at least she had an excuse to invent some fiendish new torment they could
both enjoy. He was already a little apprehensive of the size of the strap-on Vicki was wearing. It had only been used once: a memorable evening. He hoped that it wouldn’t come into action
until they had played for some considerable time, so he would be ready to relax enough to accommodate the dauntingly large black rubber phallus. Maybe it wouldn’t come into play; perhaps she
was just wearing it as a symbol of her dominance over him. And maybe Santa Claus brought presents every Christmas for children who had never been naughty . . .

“Warm him up, first,” said Amanda, handing Vicki a well-worn tawse. “Then give it to him hard.”

John looked up at Vicki, who seemed to be waiting for his permission to start. “My hide is as hard as my heart,” he said. “Let yourself go.”

Their eyes locked for a moment – which might have been a few seconds and which might have been forever.

Eventually she said, “Present yourself,” stroking the tip of a crop slowly down his back before gently tapping his buttocks. He didn’t need any further invitation; he turned
and lowered his face to the floor. Soon he was being warmed by a pair of gloved hands and the tip of a crop. The blows started soft and slow and very gradually increased in pace and strength.

Every now and again, they would pause to kiss and fondle each other. John felt it was undignified to beg, but he was close to pleading as these clinches threatened to become the main event,
rather than the exploration of his body. Soon the crop was back in action, spreading heat and light just where it was needed most, and Amanda had moved to one side to watch her
protégeé in action.

“I like it when they wriggle,” said Vicki, sounding very different from the shy ingenue of last week.

“Well, you’ll have to hit harder than that, dear,” said Amanda. “This one has been very well trained, though I say it myself.”

Vicki worked on him for some time while Amanda cradled his head between her thighs, whispering to him what was most likely to inflame his senses. John snuffed up her scent eagerly, feeling
privileged to be the plaything of two beautiful women.

“Now you’re hot, you need cold cream,” said Vicki, laying her crop aside. Her touch was divine and the anticipation of what was to come was sending him close to delirium. She
rubbed the cream in thoroughly and then started to penetrate him gently with the tip of her fingers. He pushed back hard at her invading fingers, not wanting to leave her in any doubt that he
needed what was to come.

“Steady now, Vicki. Don’t spoil him.” Amanda positioned her foot so John could lick and nuzzle her toes. “He likes it rough. And don’t worry about safe words today,
dear. This isn’t some boring, candy-floss sex club for middle-class couples with 2.4 children. If you want to fuck him senseless with that thing, you may do so.”

“This is just a game you are playing, right?” said Vicki, not at all comfortable with the edge in Amanda’s voice.

Just do it, thought John, but he was not going to indulged just yet.

“If you say so,” said Amanda. “If it is a game, the only rule is that you win. And he loses. And afterwards I will give you a big sloppy kiss. In the winner’s enclosure.
While he mixes the drinks. Sound nice?”

Vicki smiled. “Yeah. I thought you were going to be a lot harder on me.”

“We might still be hard on you. Just wait till you have to write a ten page essay in our big black book. Something like, ‘What Vicki thinks of her introduction to John and
Amanda’. And you had better go into detail.” Amanda swished a cat o’nine tails through the air, although any potential menace was easily dissipated by her hint of a smile. Vicki
already knew that any punishment always came with some serious pampering afterwards.

“Unless you can write something hot, you will be really punished,” said Amanda, in ringing tones of mock-severity. “No warm-up and each stroke will really count.” She
wagged a finger at Vicki whose eyes widened prettily. “Anyway, it’s probably time for you to fuck him. He obviously can’t wait much longer.”

“No,” giggled Vicki, giving John’s engorged penis a fond squeeze.

“Careful, now,” said Amanda. “Don’t get him too excited. His heart might not stand it.”

The contempt in her voice sounded a little too real for John’s taste. All week Amanda had been trying her best to rile him, but it was hard to know just how much was for the purposes of
roleplay and how much was because she was genuinely annoyed about his desire for Vicki.

“Now you can show just how much you want her,” said Amanda, as she guided the dauntingly wide tip of the phallus to his anus. “Open up for Vicki, dear. You know you want
it.”

The tone was scathing but she held him tight and kissed him passionately before leaving Vicki to push the phallus against him. He found the blonde’s struggles to guide her new toy almost
unbearably cute: the way the tip of her tongue protruded as she concentrated, her frown and occasional soft curses. After a brief, rather undignified struggle, she was inside him and they were soon
engrossed in a three-way exchange of passion. She was careful to be gentle and considerate, perhaps too much so, for after the initial thrill had faded John was soon aware that he would not reach
orgasm by this method. He needed the merest touch of manual or oral stimulation but both women were studiously avoiding giving him the relief he needed.

After Vicki had withdrawn from him, Amanda scratched his bulging erection with one of her blood-red fingernails.

“He’s very keen on you,” said Amanda. Her tone was caustic, as grating as the very fine sandpaper they kept for their more extreme sessions. “Let’s see just how
keen he is. He likes champagne too. Let’s see if he likes it enough to drink it second-hand.”

There was a grateful moan from John. Soon he was looking up at the stark divide of Vicki’s sex as she positioned herself over his face.

“What about the floor?” she said, still sounding a bit shocked by what was about to happen. But also excited, ready to do something new.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Amanda. “He’ll lick that up. He likes that.”

“I don’t know if I can,” said Vicki.

John almost smiled. Was she teasing him, just to make the experience more powerful when she did eventually relent and let her sour-sweet liquid gush all over him? Surely she was not yet so
artful?

“More champagne, dear?” said Amanda, handing her a glass. “Go on, gulp it down. I want to see him thoroughly covered. It’s time he learned his place in this house. Do you
know, I think he might thrive on a diet of second-hand champagne. He certainly looks eager for you to start, doesn’t he?”

Amanda touched the tip of John’s erection briefly. He was on the brink of orgasm but knew Amanda would never allow him release until she had pushed him further than he had ever been
before. This was the price to be paid for his infatuation with Vicki.

He was trying not to use the word love in this context, but the more he tried to ignore the possibility he was falling for Vicki, the stronger his feelings became. And, with this coming baptism,
he was likely to become even more besotted.

“Have another glass, dear,” said Amanda, kissing Vicki full on the lips. Her hands started to wonder around Vicki’s body, pinching the flesh until she found the two most
important openings to her body and eased a finger in each. There was nothing John could do except watch. And dream. Anything and everything might happen, in just a few short moments. If they could
ever leave each other alone.

To think even as long ago as last week he had imagined betraying Amanda with Victoria. If anyone was likely to be left out of any new partnership, it was highly likely to be himself. The limits
of his betrayal would only have been a few nights with Vicki, somewhere they could relax free from the scrutiny of Amanda’s prying eyes and acid tongue. But he now knew this would never
happen and, what’s more, it never should happen. It was better this way.

“I shouldn’t really drink any more,” said Vicki, who was starting to giggle as the alcohol got through to her. “I feel light-headed.”

You and me both, babe, thought John. He watched the full cheeks of her bottom wobbling slightly as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

“Many persist in seeing water sports in the context of dominance and submission,” said Amanda, who sometimes forgot that not everyone wanted to be lectured. “It doesn’t
have to be part of a humiliation scenario; it can be a joyful celebration of the partner’s body,” she continued.

Vicki was all ears but John could have done with less talk and more action. Just shut up and tell her to piss all over me, he thought, but his fervent attempts at telepathy were to little avail.
As yet. Still, he could be content with letting the anticipation build.

“We should view this exchange as a liquid kiss,” said Amanda. “There need be no shame in accepting a warm fluid coming straight from the centre of your partner’s
sexuality.”

No shame indeed, thought John. Just get on with it!

“The communion service is descended from occult ceremonies in which bodily fluids would be placed in a chalice. The Holy Grail itself is undoubtedly a vessel meant to symbolise the vagina,
a cup in which various fluids can be drunk.”

Yes, yes. Just tell her to squat over my face. Let me gaze up at her lovely cleft and the rounded cheeks of her bottom. Let her relax enough to get used to the idea. Let it flow down over me.
Let me drink it in and lick her afterwards.

“Fresh urine usually smells and tastes good, provided the partner is in good health and one is attracted to them in the first place,” said Amanda.

Vicki was still wide-eyed, getting used to the idea of what she was about to do.

“You don’t have to ask if he wants you to do it. Look at him! He is yearning for you. Won’t do him any harm to let him wait. Drink more champagne. Make sure you have a full
bladder before you anoint him. If you’re really good, I’ll let you drink mine.”

“Is it . . .” Vicki couldn’t complete her question because to do so would seem ungrateful. But you couldn’t be too careful, these days. “Is it safe?” she
said, in a very quiet voice.

Amanda smiled. “It’s low risk, with regard to HIV transmission. Only a tiny amount of the HIV virus is contained in urine and saliva kills that off. As long as it is kept away from
cuts and abrasions and the receiving partner’s gums are not bleeding, this is safe sex.”

Please, please, please. Just do it, thought John. It had been some time since he had prayed to anybody or anything, but he was getting close now. I need this, I want it, I must have it . . .

“It’s coming!” said Vicki, sounding as exhilarated as John felt.

As the warm aromatic fluid coursed over his face and mouth, he gulped and swallowed, struggling to keep pace with the force of the flow. For one absurd moment, he recognised the taste of the
chemical sweetener she had popped into her after-dinner coffee; then he was lost once more as Amanda used her most spiteful crop on him with more energy than was customary.