Decadence (8 page)

I look into Candice’s
pretty face, as I try to get a read on her. Her beautiful brown doe
shaped eyes are big and nervous. Seeing that look on another girl’s
face would’ve given me pause, would’ve made me break protocol and
ask her if she was okay. Not Candice. Her look of nervousness seems
to be asking for it. Daring me. Her look taunting me, testing me,
seeing if I was going to be fooled by it. I wasn’t.

I slide her end of the eighteen inch dong
inside of her. The way she tilts her head back, the way her lips
part in that “O” shape, the way her eyes go dreamy, I can tell that
the end of the dong I’ve stretched her kitty with, the end that’s
invading her hot wet little hole, is much needed company. Girls
like her only look scared, but they were the ones aching to be
fucked, needed a hard cock in them at all times. They were the
girls you’d never expect would love to have two or three men at
once. The kind of girl you had a hard time picturing laying on her
back as one guy pumped away between her legs as she sucked another
one off. It would be the guys who’d end up on the floor panting,
sweating, muscles aching, cum dripping from their shrinking penises
as she laid back on the bed rubbing her clit, running her fingers
over her slit, wanting more, craving more hard dick, kitty so
hungry she’d loved to be fucked until she were sore.

I slid the other side of the done in my own
kitty. Made mine purr on the inside. Stretched my walls. I needed
to cum again just as badly as Candice did. The private parking
garage seemed to have been eons ago. But our master gave specific
instructions. I was listening, caught his every word, but I wasn’t
sure Candice had done the same. Our hips rolled in alternating
rhythms. Our moans are nice and easy, they go with the way our hips
are rotating.

Chris leans up, starts playing with both our
kitties, our sweet spots filled with the long thick toy. I see
Chris rubbing her clit, see how her opening swallows that fake cock
over and over, see how she bites her bottom lip, the grimace on her
face, the way her mouth opens and closes in ecstasy, the way her
eyes do the same. Her eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings, her
breasts have a sheen of sweat over them even though the room is
cool. There is a thin layer of Chris’s cum still on her that was
never wiped off, soaking into her beautiful skin.

Chris is watching her more than he’s watching
me. I find myself feeling a wee bit green. Find myself wanting some
of that same attentiveness.

“I beg you master,” I address him. “Fuck
me.”

Chris turns towards me, eyes all steel.

“No. Suffer,” is his response. He turns his
attention back to Candice. He seems mesmerized by her. I want to
break that trance, I don’t care what the punishment is going to
be.

I thrust my hips forward, push her back onto
the bed, back onto her back, hope all the anger and annoyance I
feel is in my eyes, written all over my face, hoping she can’t see
the jealousy as well. Hoping Chris doesn’t see it even though he
knows me better than myself sometimes. I get her on her back easy
with the just the strength of my kitty and the dong. I nearly go
down with her because of the cuffs. I don’t hesitate. I squeeze my
PC muscles, start riding my end of the dong, pushing her end inside
her deeper, harder, see her eyes widen as I start pumping her end
of the dong inside of her. Her legs are gapped open, she starts to
scream, grabbing at the bed covers, a look of anguish in her
eyes.

I reach down with the hand I’m cuffed to her
with and rub her little clit. Rub it as I penetrate her faster and
harder, as I speed up the rotation of my fingers on that little
button that’s pushing her over the edge.

Her orgasm takes her by surprise, I see it
written all over face. She gushes, squirts all over my thighs and
the dong. Squirts and screams as tears roll down the side of her
face.

I feel Chris grab me, move me away from the
dong just enough so I can’t ride it anymore. After he’s removed my
end of the pleasure toy from inside me, he takes the rest of it out
of Candice as well. He unfastens the cuffs from our wrists just as
quickly as he came upon us.

He slaps my ass hard, one good time, like an
upset authoritarian with an unruly pupil.

“You know better!” He shouts at me, his eyes
filled with so much anger towards me as he points to the far end of
the bed. “Go! Sit! Now!”

I do as I’m told. I retreat. I go over to the
end of the bed as he instructed and lick my wounds, all the while
trying to suppress a smirk.

He’s positioned himself at Candice’s head,
his penis aimed at her face as he moves his semi-hard cock up to
Candice’s lips who takes to it instantly, sucking away. Chris leans
over, rubs her soaking slit, her lips are wet and dripping, there’s
a wet spot on the bed underneath her, her thighs are wet. She’s
made an absolute mess because of me and I can’t help but be proud.
He rubs her slit, penetrates her nice and slow with two of his
fingers, then three. He looks like he’s grabbing her with those
three fingers, squeezing her snatch, takes those three fingers in
and out of her, taking his time.

“You didn’t mean to cum,” he tells her
softly. “I know it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t help it. But you
weren’t instructed to cum, baby. I’m sorry.”

He stops massaging her slit, stops sliding
his fingers in and out of her sweet spot, and slaps her sex. Slaps
her slit, making her squeal, and there’s a look of astonishment on
her face.

“Leila will be punished,” he tells her. “But
so will you. Only not as severely. You’re going to get off with a
few warnings. Be grateful.”

He slaps her slit again, rubs it, spreads her
lips and shows me her pink inner walls and then slides two of his
fingers inside of her. He takes them out, keeps her lips parted
with one hand, exposing her tiny little hole that’s been stretched
somewhat after all that’s been done to it since she got into the
car with us at the club along with her clit, and with his other
hand he slaps her opening. Slaps her pink walls that he can get to
along with her clit. He snaps his wrist back, giving that area four
harsh thwacks. She moans and gives sexy little screams as he does
it, all the while holding onto his arm, her face screwed up in
anguish/pain. Her legs are wide open. I can see everything. With
every thwack she’s getting wetter, I could hear it start to splash
by the time Chris had smacked it the fourth time. When he moves his
hand away I can actually see her juices flowing out of her, clear
and sweet. I know because I’ve tasted it. I see it all before Chris
puts his fingers back in and strokes her hot little hole as if he’s
playing inside his favorite little toy, his favorite little fuck
box.

He’s rubbing her, soothing her little snatch,
patting now as if it’s delicate.

Then he leans down, kisses her softly,
slowly, let’s me see him sucking her tongue and then savoring her
lips. He takes his hand out of her kitty and puts it up to her
lips, traces her juices over the top one and then the bottom one,
sucks her juices off of her. He puts those same two fingers into
her mouth, makes her suck them, then he puts them into his mouth
and sucks off her kitty juice and her saliva.

He puts his fully erect dick back up to her
mouth and she sucks him nice and slow.

All I’m allowed to do right now is watch. And
be tortured. Tormented. Chris looks back at me and gives me a
fiendish smile. He looks like a naughty little boy bent on hovering
over a colony of ants with a magnifying glass. His goal right now
is torment; he intends to torment me. I want to hate him, but I
know I deserve it.

As she sucks him she plays with her beautiful
breasts, pinches her succulently hard nipples. Nipples I want to
suck again. Nipples I want to taste that have a layer of Chris’s
cum on them and sweat and saliva. I want to taste it all.

Chris moans as she sucks him. He thrusts his
cock into her mouth a little rougher as if it’s her kitty, that
stretchy juicy hole between her thighs, and she looks up at him
with big innocent brown eyes that would make anyone melt as she
swallows him deeper, sucking him with more passion.

He reaches down and grabs one of her tits.
Rubs that fat breast, then smacks it, makes it jiggle. He massages
that same breast, takes his cock out of her mouth and leans down
and kisses her, tongues her deep, then sucks the nipple of that
same breast he’d just been toying with.

She looks as if she wants both her mouth and
her snatch stuffed with cock. I want to see her that way. I want to
see her on her back being fucked in every hole. I want to get
fucked as she gets penetrated to the point where she has no hole
that isn’t being slammed with hard dick.

She’s driving me fucking nuts, but I know I
can’t do anything. I know I can’t jump in. That would be breaking
too many rules. I can’t disobey Christopher. He’s my master. I must
wait for his instruction, his punishment to be issued. All I can do
is watch, be the voyeur. The tortured voyeur.

Then I see Chris’s face. He looks as if he
has tunnel vision. He looks just as tortured as I feel.

He looks down at her with eyes filled with
confusion and suffering and then says to her barely above a
whisper, “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

Before he finishes the question completely he
lifts her up from where she’s been laying. He lifts her as if she’s
weightless. He’s kneeling on the bed, his cock so hard it looks
like it has a mind of its own, as if it has an idea of the
destination it wants to go as it bounces as he moves.

He doesn’t hesitate before he impales her
with that stiff appendage. He goes inside her deep every single
time. Every single time it seems he pounds into her with more and
more force. His hard on disappears completely every single time he
enters her. Ten inches. He has a ten inch cock. A ten inch dick.
She’s taking nearly a foot of a solid pole of flesh inside her
tight little twat every second. Her hair is flying. Her tits go up
and down. Her mouth is open, but she can’t even scream. He’s
slamming into her so hard, so deep, I can hear their skin slapping
every single time he brings her cute tiny little body back in
toward him.

He’s fucking her viciously. Savagely. With no
condom.

I’ve never seen him so reckless. Never seen
him play Russian roulette this way before. Not with his health, his
life. He doesn’t even look like himself. I’ve never seen him fuck
the way he’s fucking her before.

Suddenly he sits on the bed and she’s on top
of him, legs spread over his lap. He doesn’t break his vicious
rhythm. Doesn’t slow. He fucks her like he’s trying to kill her.
He’s below her, but he’s still in control. She’s not riding him,
he’s simply lifting her up and down as if she’s a beautiful five
foot two doll, bouncing her on his pole of pain. Making her scream.
She’s begging for mercy. He doesn’t listen to her pleas.

I’m watching him. I’ve seen all this before.
I’ve seen the look on his face at least a hundred times before.
He’s about to cum and he’s about to cum hard. Harder than he did
earlier when she was sucking him, deep throating him, and he was
shooting his load in her mouth.

He leans back against the overstuffed feather
filled pillows on the bed. He holds her down by her waist. Holds
her down, raises his own hips toward her as he pushes into her with
all his might, with strength, with his massive cock that’s about to
explode. She can’t move, and he’s as deep inside of her as he can
get. He growls and grunts like an animal. I’ve never seen him cum
like this before. It’s primal. He’s a cave man. He’s marking his
territory.

He cums inside of her and the world stops. At
least my world stops, and for me, right now, that’s the only world
that matters. He’s cum inside of her and has broken our most
cardinal rule. He’s cum and I don’t recognize this man, this Chris
that’s looking at this girl, this stranger, as if she’s his
salvation. He’s looking at her with hearts in his eyes.

She moans and rises off of his cock that’s
still twitching, that’s still spewing cum inside of her walls. She
raises herself, gyrates her hips just a little as if she’s trying
to get every bit of his semen to come out and play inside of her.
She’s smiling and riding him slowly. She leans in and kisses him.
They kiss as if they’ve just made love. They kiss as if they’ve
known one another forever. Jealous isn’t the word to describe what
I’m feeling. They’re tonguing one another with a passion that
excludes the rest of the world from their own little corner in it.
They kiss with a passion as if they’ve totally forgotten about
me.

I watch them.

I don’t know what’s happening.

I don’t know if I want to know what’s going
on.

The only thing I really truly know is there
aren’t anymore rules in our game.

***

I wake up and it’s 1:45AM. I’m disoriented at
first and can’t figure out where I am.

I’m surrounded by walls painted in black and
red, in some places white.

Can’t be.

The walls of my bedroom are a dusky rose
color with framed paintings of flowers with beautiful petals that
seem to leap out at the viewer.

I don’t sleep on black sheets the color of
ink.

My sheets are white with lavender and pale
pink embroidery that was custom made for me in Madrid.

Then slowly, like the events of the evening
before start coming back to me. The fog in my head begins to peel
away, revealing clearer mental photos, clear dialog that had begun
to rush to the surface of my memory as I remembered everything
slowly and with a clarity that nearly sent me hurling into the
bathroom and starting a deep transaction between myself and the
porcelain well of waste.

I hadn’t thought I’d drunk as much as the
feeling of a hangover that’s bothering me right now.