Slave Of The Aristocracy: A Gentlemen's Agreement Part 12

She wondered if he would like her to wear a different outfit for every entertainment.

She looked at the crowd for a long moment, letting antic.i.p.ation build.

The room was empty but for the men. There was no furniture or fixtures on the walls. Even the billiard table had been removed. The expansive, empty floor was covered from wall to wall by thick mats uncertain footing that forced the men keep s.h.i.+fting their balance. That contributed to their impatient appearance.

They knew that something extraordinary must be planned if such an extensive modification of the room were required.

"Gentlemen," she said, "you are so esteemed that even the stars will drift down from the heavens to serve you."

As she spoke, the room lights dimmed until only a single spotlight was focused on her.

"The stars come out only at night. So we must look for them in the dark."

The spotlight contracted until only her face was illuminated.

"You have been given wristbands so that you, too will s.h.i.+ne like the stars."

The gentlemen had been fitted with gold bracelets when they entered the room. As their eyes adapted to the dark, they could see that a tiny light in each bracelet was glowing with a faint white light.

"This is a silent night. The stars have no voices. But soon you will be part of heavenly constellations."

The spot on her face faded and the room was left in total darkness. The faint lights on the gentlemen's wrists were not bright enough to illuminate anything.

Those lights danced as the men fidgeted in antic.i.p.ation.

Then another, slightly brighter light appeared at the front of the room. This one was blue and bounced, at shoulder level towards the men. It was followed by a green light, then an orange, then purple, and more.

A gentleman near the front gasped softly and a female voice giggled.

The colored lights dispersed among the white ones and the room became agitated with flickering sparks. The effect was more like fireflies on a warm summer night than stars in the sky, but the gentlemen weren't overly particular about the metaphor.

One of the men whispered in excitement, "Irene?"

Another man whispered back, "No, she's with me."

A third voice whispered, "d.a.m.n. I though this was her."

The gentlemen were discovering that every slave in the room was wearing a collar. That is where their star-lights were located.

One of the men tried to illuminate a face with the light on his wristband, but it only threw enough light to cast a pale glow on a cheek. A cheek that was bulging from the c.o.c.k that was filling the slave's mouth.

It didn't take long for the gentlemen to stop caring if it was Irene who was servicing him or another slave. All cats look the same in the dark.

Irene had requisitioned additional slaves so that there would be almost one for every man. A dozen slaves for fifteen gentlemen was an extravagance but Lord Snow made it clear that he wanted the best for these guests. Once they were dispersed, it was hard to count them. Some gentlemen were being serviced by two slaves at once while other gentlemen were already resting in post-coital contentment.

The exceptionally high ratio of slaves to gentlemen meant that the slaves had time to relax and enjoy themselves, too. It wasn't only the male throats that breathed o.r.g.a.s.mic moans and gasps of ecstasy.

Everyone moved slowly. In the dark, no one wanted to step on the bodies that were writhing on the floor.

As soon as all the slaves were in the room, Irene stepped back into the tunnel to the slave kennels, closed the door, and lit a dim electric lantern. She rushed through the kennels and stepped out into the driveway. She waved the lantern and a car drove forward to stop beside her. It disgorged two excited and nervous ladies.

She took them into the kennel and prepared them in the pleasure room: stripping them naked, letting their hair down, and encircling their necks with collars that shone with pinpoint yellow lights. She was careful to check that they had both shaved their crotches bald.

She knew them, but no one felt like speaking. They just wanted to get on with the evening as quickly as possible.

When they pa.s.sed her inspection, she led them into the pitch-black billiard room and watched while they found their way into the crowd. Then she stepped back into the tunnel and shed her catsuit. She clipped a pink light to her own collar.

Naked, Irene reentered the billiard room. She stood at the front and looked for one special light the only red one. She didn't see it. She wasn't surprised, but she was annoyed.

She slowly walked around the perimeter of the room, keeping one hand brus.h.i.+ng against the wall while she shuffled her feet to make sure that she didn't step on anyone.

When she made it all the way around the room and was, once again, at the open door to the kennels, she paused and thought for a minute. It was unlikely that Nickel would dare return to the kennel this time. If she were caught in her cell, ditching the second entertainment in a row, she might well be locked inside and left to die of starvation.

Then Irene realized her mistake. Nickel would have seen the pink light approaching and stepped out of the way.

This time, Irene put her left hand up to her collar to cover her pink light while she let her right hand trail along the wall.

She turned one corner and traversed the length of the room to the second corner. There she b.u.mped into a warm body. A body with b.r.e.a.s.t.s that pressed against hers. A female body with no light on the collar.

She reached out and grabbed Nickel's wrist and pulled her hand down to let the red light s.h.i.+ne like a tiny beacon.

"Not doing our part, are we, whiphand?" Irene whispered into her ear. "Come with me and let me introduce you to a few nice gentlemen."

Nickel didn't dare resist when Irene pulled her into the sensuous, slow-motion melee in progress on the mats.

When they were in the middle of the orgy, Irene whispered, "You better get yourself f.u.c.ked but good because, the next time I lick your c.u.n.t, I expect taste a h.e.l.l of a lot of s.e.m.e.n in there. If not, I'm going to have Lord Snow cane your a.s.s into raw hamburger."

Nickel began to slide away, but Irene pulled her back and added, "And at the end of the entertainment, I'm going to smell your breath. You better have a serious case of p.e.n.i.s breath, too, or you'll have cause to regret your indolence." She released her, but kept watching the red light on her collar to make sure that it stayed visible and stayed in the vicinity of a white gentleman's wristband.

Her duty done, Irene scanned the floor looking for one light in particular. Lord Snow's wristband had been fitted with a light that slowly cycled from pale blue to pure white to dusty yellow and back. The change in shade was unlikely to be noticed unless a person knew to look for it.

Irene spotted it at the edge of the melee close to the interior door. That made sense. Lord Snow had entered after his guests and had not moved far.

She made her way to him in a slow shuffle, avoiding stepping on the male and female stars.

She brushed against an appendage a foot and a hand groped at her chest, managed to find a t.i.t, and squeezed it. "Join us," a man commanded.

There were already two stars cl.u.s.tered about him green and yellow that would be Apple and Tamarind. The man was a glutton for fruit. She thought that it was the marquette's voice but didn't bother feeling for his goatee. She took his hand from her breast, kissed it warmly, and then placed it on Tamarind at the level of her waist and moved away, turning so that the light on her collar faced away from him.

Someone was already offering her service to Lord Snow. This wouldn't have been the first time that he was serviced tonight; it was already more than half an hour into the entertainment.

The star's light was dark blue. One of the borrowed slaves.

Irene knelt beside him and began feeling the lord's body. He was lying on his back. She felt the slave's hair hanging over his hips. She was ministering to him with her mouth. She removed the slave's hand from the root of his c.o.c.k and replaced it with hers. Then she stroked upward, pus.h.i.+ng the slave's mouth off his shaft and head.

The slave understood that Irene was cutting in and didn't object. There was no shortage of c.o.c.k that needed sucking in this room.

Lord Snow made a disappointed whimpering sound but Irene cut that short by swirling her tongue around the head of his d.i.c.k.

His whimper turned to a contented sigh.

Then she straddled his hips and lowered her c.u.n.t over his c.o.c.k. It felt wonderful to finally have a man inside her again.

As soon as she was deeply impaled, he began to thrust into her, almost lifting her knees off the floor with his powerful body.

She dragged her fingers along his chest and up his neck to find his face, then she put her finger across his lips. He understood that she was not shus.h.i.+ng his mouth he wasn't saying anything but was quieting his body.

He stopped thrusting, curious to see what would happen.

She didn't move. She began ma.s.saging his c.o.c.k with her c.u.n.t muscles.

He gasped in pleasure at the sensation. He had never felt anything like it.

The other slaves had been working out with their c.u.n.t weights and were developing some strength, but none of them were nearly as strong as Irene. And none of them had anywhere near her control.

Now, when they f.u.c.ked a man, they knew to add to his stimulation by squeezing him as he thrust. And the gentlemen appreciated them as expert lovers certainly more expert than their wives or even their own slaves.

But Irene was in a different league altogether.

Lord Snow had never before felt anything like he was feeling now. Irene wasn't just squeezing him, she was milking him, rolling the pressure along his shaft from her outer lips to deep in her v.a.g.i.n.a in slow waves.

In a moment, he was mewling like a newborn kitten, completely in thrall to her sensual magic.

She, in turn, was ecstatic to feel a man penetrating her, deep and strong, after a long drought. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were heaving in the darkness as she drew great, deep breaths and exhaled in long, musical sighs.

She slowly ground her c.l.i.t against his pubic bone and ma.s.saged her g-spot with his rigid c.o.c.k. Her swollen inner lips were pressed hard against the root of his great shaft by her contractions.

She reached a plateau of arousal that was almost painful, so exquisitely delightful the sensations from v.u.l.v.a to cervix, and hung there using her mighty concentration to keep from tripping over that last threshold until, at long last, she felt the man inside her pulse and pulse and fill her with his thick, rich cream.

She screamed when she came. Screamed like a demon from the pit of h.e.l.l. Screamed like a runaway locomotive. Screamed to banish the unbearable frustration of months of forced celibacy.

Her screams had not yet faded when she collapsed on top of Lord Snow in a fog of pure joy.

She lay there, feeling his smooth, muscular chest against her full, round b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Feeling his thighs caress the inside of hers. Feeling his manhood slowly shrink and withdraw from her.

She rolled her face upward, found his lips, and kissed him.

A slave never kisses a gentleman. She lets the gentleman kiss her if he pleases and only then does she respond in kind. But she never dares to take the initiative and force the intimate embrace on him.

Most gentlemen don't kiss slaves.

But the slave, Irene, kissed Lord Snow and he kissed her back. It was long and deep and inexpressibly intimate. Far more intimate than the love that they had just consummated.

When they unlocked their lips, Irene laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him as tightly as she could, pressing the entire length of her body against his, loving every inch of contact.

"My G.o.d," he said. "That was incredible. I never felt anything like that before. That was pure art."

She said nothing. Stars had no voice. And she had no intention of revealing her ident.i.ty by speaking aloud. She wriggled against him, endeavoring to snuggle even deeper into his arms.

"James was a fool not to buy you when he had the chance," Lord Snow said quietly.

She stiffened. She was the fool to think that she could outwit her owner. Then, because the jig was up, but she wasn't ready to concede defeat, she relaxed and began to ma.s.sage his pectoral muscles, slowly and silently, working the tension from him with her fingertips.

She had never enjoyed a man in this way before. Not her husband, nor her former owner, nor his guests. But it felt natural and she didn't have to think about how to do it. She just did it.

After a bit, Lord Snow's breathing slowed to a long, regular rhythm. He wasn't asleep, but he was as relaxed as she had ever seen him.

He didn't protest when she slipped out of his loose grasp and silently stole away into the darkness.

She scanned the lights to make sure that the red star was glowing somewhere next to a gentleman's bracelet. It was bobbing in a steady beat. She didn't know if that was Nickel's head bobbing over a hot c.o.c.k or if Nickel were on her hands and knees being rocked by a determined b.u.g.g.e.ring. She didn't care. As long as a man was penetrating her in some fas.h.i.+on, Nickel was being useful.

Later, when the action began to fade and more lights were resting quietly on the mattresses than bobbing around in dynamic constellations, she located the two yellow star-lights at opposite sides of the room. She went to one, found the lady's hand, raised her to her feet, and led her to the door to the kennels. Then she did the same with the other.

Once both ladies were in the tunnel, she closed the door and then lit an electric lantern. The light was not bright, but all three of them squinted and blinked under the sudden a.s.sault on their eyes.

Irene took the opportunity to re-don her black catsuit.

The naked ladies started t.i.ttering and whispering.

Irene shushed them and whispered, "Keep quiet until we get back to the kennel."

When they were again in the pleasure room, Irene shut the door. "Was the entertainment to your satisfaction?" she asked at a normal volume, indicating that it was safe to talk.

Lady Linda and Lady Kaitlin looked at each other and grinned.

"That was incredible," Linda said.

Kaitlin squeezed her own b.u.t.tock. "Thank G.o.d you warned me to prepare my a.s.s. Thank G.o.d I took your advice. I can't believe that I let myself get b.u.g.g.e.red. Twice. I think it was two different men." She wriggled her behind. "I still feel all loose and slippery back there."

"I didn't," Linda said. "Not this time. But I sucked three c.o.c.ks. I think it was a different one each time. And then I let each one of them f.u.c.k me. I never realized how much men like going at a woman doggy style. I didn't get f.u.c.ked the regular way even once."

"I did. I just laid on my back and let them find me and have a go at me. One after another. Bang, bang, bang. I got f.u.c.ked more in one night than I had in the whole last year. G.o.d, I'm going to be sore tomorrow. I won't let Tim into my bedroom for a week."

Lord Timothy Granger hadn't been at the entertainment. Nor had Lord Hoffman. If they had, Irene would have kept the ladies out. n.o.body could risk having ladies discovered by their husbands. Even the least attentive husband could be expected to distinguish between his own wife and an anonymous slave in the dark.

Irene had certainly been identified by Lord Snow easily enough. And he had never made love to her before.

"Okay, ladies, let's get you dressed and get your hair pinned up. I have to get you away before I go back in there and end the entertainment."

Her two ex-friends continued giggling and chattering about their exploits all the way to their car.

As they were getting in, Kaitlin said, "Thank you so much, Irene. This has been like a miracle."

Linda hugged her tight and said, "I regret so much that you sold yourself, Irene. But I think, tonight, I see why you did it. It's incredibly exciting."

Irene hugged her back. "It's not always exciting. Mostly it's boring. And my life will be a lot shorter as a slave. I can expect to die as a labor slave before I reach fifty. Probably before I reach forty-five. But, at least I will have lived before I die. When I was a lady, I never felt like I was really alive."

"Don't say that. Don't talk about death tonight. Tonight is about life."