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The Story of Monique

The Story of Monique

Anonymous

 

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Excerpt from eBook:

 

Chapter 1

Monique stretched luxuriously on her bed, her tawny body writhing on the cool sheets, and glanced at the clock.

Already eleven! She jumped up, put her bathrobe and slippers on, and shuffled down the hail.

It was quiet. Aunt Sonia had gone out; Monique couldn’t remember if she’d mentioned she’d be spending the day shopping. It didn’t matter... the solitude was welcome and her aunt would return soon enough. And then...

Monique swallowed a hastily prepared cup of tea before returning to her room to get dressed. She paused before the full-length mirror inside the door, admiring the reflection of her magnificent body as she removed the robe. She was tall and slim, though well-rounded at the hips and buttocks. Golden-blonde hair fell in an unrestrained cascade to her shoulders. Her face was porcelain fine-the eyes wide and blue, the cheekbones well-defined, the lips full and pouting. Her breasts were full globes that hung lush and firm and swayed when she walked. They were capped with rose-dark cones that covered the ends like snow on a mountain peak. Her torso tapered to a thin waist that flared to voluptuous hips. Below her belly a thin mossing of golden hair covered her mount; the inviting pink lips of her taut pussy peered shyly from beneath. Her legs were long and smooth and seemed to invite a caress.

Sighing, Monique turned away and pulled on a shirt and shorts. The bottom line of her buttocks was just visible below the daring cut of the cloth. She had nothing planned for the day, other than to take a walk in the park, read, and perhaps grab a bite to eat. But even this became boring after an hour or two and she returned home to take a nap.

Naked on the bed, on the verge of sleep, she thought about the breadth of her experiences since her precocious maturity. She was aware of a slight feeling of shame, but the recollection of the hours of sensuous pleasure she’d allowed herself supplanted any misgivings. She nodded off, a finger absently stroking the erect flesh of her clitoris.

A kiss on her already throbbing nipples woke Monique. She opened her eyes to see her aunt, naked as she, lying beside her and nibbling at the plump fruits. Her teeth tugged the taut nippleflesh; the twin peaks rose to her prodding until they stood engorged and quivering beneath the alternating nibbles and licks. Meanwhile, Sonia’s fingers frantically explored Monique’s young body as if trying to absorb some of its youth and vitality by mere contact.

Monique eagerly surrendered herself to the invasion. Sonia’s mouth covered her assenting mouth, prompting an exchange of twining tongues. Sonia’s belly glued itself to her own in a long rotation that merged their pussy hairs. The pendulous breasts of her aunt hovered tantalizingly just out of tongue’s reach, the dark nipples begging to be laved and raked.

Eyes closed, tongues tied together, the two women abandoned themselves to the pleasures of their union. Sonia lifted Monique’s legs, bending and spreading them apart while she brought them all the way up the girl’s bosom. Then she squatted sideways between the upturned legs, straddling Monique so as to adapt her dripping cunt to her niece’s yawning slit. Sonia’s tits slid down along Monique’s imprisoned thighs until the two women were cunt to cunt. Sonia seated herself more firmly, trying to use her erect clit to penetrate the lips of Monique’s gasping pussy. She bobbed up and down and rotated her bottom, feeling the pleasure intensify. Then she brought two fingers to the pink threshold and began to separate the moist flesh.

Monique closed her eyes, arching her body more completely, offering herself to the penetration. Sonia teased the lips before her, running her fingertips over and along the slit, curling the golden hair along its border, and just barely darting within the orifice until Monique lay moaning and squirming beneath her. She made a cooing sound of sympathy before finally working one, then two, then another of her probing digits into the opening.

She plunged then in to the first joint, admiring the way the eager flesh of Monique’s cunt grasped the intruders. She worked them around, revelling in the feel of the slippery membranes, before jamming them in as far as they would go.

Monique gasped and jumped with the final penetration, moaning with mixed discomfort and ecstasy. She could feel her pearly sap starting to ooze out as Sonia finger-fucked her with brutal force. She could feel a tingling warmth building in her toes that rose up her legs and suffused her body with a languorous glow. Through slitted eyes she could see Sonia’s face above her, convulsed with pleasure, the head bending backwards, the lips slightly parted, the nipples dusky and erect. She had little time to see anything else as the spasmodic contractions overwhelmed her and she gushed against her aunt’s fingers.

They remained motionless in the heavy silence that followed, Sonia sprawled across Monique’s panting body. Then she resumed sucking Monique’s titties. She licked around the darker rings of tender flesh, pausing to bite and scrape her teeth against the hardened cones. She inhaled deeply, drawing as much of Monique’s right breast into her mouth as she could, then released it and licked the undersides before progressing once again to the nipples. She rose up and straddled the young girl, only this time she placed herself higher. Monique, basking in the exhaustion following her orgasm, let her do whatever she wanted to do. Little by little Sonia moved up her chest. Her spread thighs came to cover the nipple of the left breast. It seemed that her pussy, gifted with some kind of self-thinking, hesitated a little. But a moment later the wet lips absorbed the turgid upstanding flesh of Monique’s tit, bringing the hard peak of the nipple in contact with the sensitive bud of Sonia’s cunt. Sonia’s hands came to rest on each side of Monique’s head as she began to grind her hips in a circular motion.

“Darling, oh darling!” murmured Sonia, while her belly slid in all directions.

Monique could feel the warmly grasping cunt lips rubbing against her erect nipple. Sonia pressed down harder to make the flesh penetrate more deeply in the flowing slit. The silence was punctuated by Sonia’s loving sighs as she strove to impale herself.

“How good it is,” her aunt moaned. “My love.. .again. ..again... there... see how soft your breasts are... ”

Indeed, Monique could feel pleasurable sensations radiating from her bosom all the way to her own cunt. She hadn’t thought such warm and delightful feelings were possible except by the promptings of a large and plunging cock. She closed her thighs under the pressure of her response.

Soon Sonia, entirely out of control, uttering senseless words, came in a paroxysm of convulsive joy that collapsed her onto Monique’s quivering body. Monique lifted her breast to her mouth and lapped at the juices that covered her nipple and dribbled into the valley between her tits. She felt Sonia’s lips wandering down her body. Moaning with expectation, she parted her thighs, awaiting the delicate caress she knew was forthcoming. Her pussy, already dripping from her previous orgasm, throbbed as Sonia’s roving tongue moved closer. When Sonia buried her head between the tan thighs, Monique scissored the burning cheeks, trapping the hungry mouth and tongue in her quivering muff.

Sonia ate her expertly, licking the bedewed cunt lips, flicking at the inner conch-hued folds, then turning the skin slightly outward so as to better nibble the enflamed clit. The feeling was indescribable; Monique shivered with each lashing, savoring the levels of pleasure to which Sonia brought her, only to be surprised anew as her aunt elevated her to a still higher plane of throbbing ecstasy. She felt as though her belly and loins would explode as her orgasm overtook her. She came in great gouting spasms that made her cry out and left her breathless, but satisfied and fulfilled as well.

Sonia raised her head when the throes subsided and smiled. “Well, I’m certainly glad you accepted my invitation to spend your vacation with me.” She licked Monique’s creme from her lips. “How about you?”

Monique simply smiled and stretched. The pleasure they’d exchanged precluded the need for an answer. She closed her eyes and let the lassitude of total satisfaction overcome her.

When she awoke, Sonia had left. She saw her again later in the evening as they passed in a hallway, but nothing was exchanged other than an ardent embrace.

As she usually did, Monique took a walk following a solitary dinner. Sonia had often left her alone at this time, explaining that this would give Monique the opportunity to explore the country-side, her neighbors, and herself. It was an unusual situation, Monique had to admit. Her aunt had extended an invitation to stay the summer at her beach house near Cannes.

Having finished her studies and eager for a month or two of leisure before she had to return to Paris and begin her employment, Monique had eagerly accepted. Of course, she hadn’t realized at the time that Sonia was an avowed lesbian, though she became accustomed to her aunt’s preferences with remarkable speed and ease. Her holiday had turned into a further education, one which she welcomed.

She was not without experience-she had frequently let herself be fucked by the gardener at the Academy for Girls where she had taken her degree. She had become quite proficient at it, too.

Nothing had pleased her more than to excite her partner to such a state that his erect cock oozed its milky treasure while he begged to bury it in her luscious pussy. But this was different. This exploration of her body with fingers and tongue was a revelation each time Sonia came to her. It was like awakening after a long sleep, languid and relaxed, but eager for the new experiences the day would bring. Her aunt never failed to uplift her in this fashion.

The following morning Sonia was waiting for Monique at the breakfast table, a sly smile creasing the smooth angularity of her face. A letter dangled from her fingers; she fanned herself with it, then held it up for Monique to see.

“This should please you,” she said excitedly, “especially as you want to expand your circle of influential friends now that you’ve left the womb of the university. It’s from my friend Mrs. Merval. At my request she’s wangled you an introduction to Madame Lager.” She took a sip of tea. “You’ve probably seen her house - it’s the large white one up the beach with the imposing columns in front. The house is called ‘The Djinns,’ why I don’t know, although I suspect it’s because of the special brand of magic she practices there.”

Monique didn’t pretend to understand, but she trusted her aunt implicitly. And besides, Sonia had a mischievous glint in her eyes that promised more of the excitement and adventure to which Monique had become accustomed. So she said nothing, simply nodding to encourage Sonia to continue. “Anyway, Madame Lager entertains some of the most interesting and influential people in the south of France there. Need I add that these are the type of people who will undoubtedly be able to assist you upon your return to Paris? She is also supposed to be an expert in the types of games we have been playing here. If for no other reason than that I’m sure you’ll want to call her as soon as you can.”

“I will,” Monique promised, which promise she made good on immediately following breakfast and Sonia’s departure for the day. She had to admit she was rather intimidated by the authoritative voice that answered at the other end, but she also couldn’t back out now after the efforts of her aunt and Mrs. Merval. So she made an appointment with Madame Lager for that very afternoon. Around five o’clock, as the sun was setting in a blaze of orange and gold, Monique set out along the beach for ‘The Djinns’. The late afternoon breeze was a caress and the solitude pleasant. The water lapped softly at her bare ankles and whispered seductively to her as she trudged slowly across the incoming tide. She had no idea what to expect, but the conversation at the breakfast table had at least provided her with the necessary clues for her to dress in what she believed to be the appropriate manner. She was wearing a short black skirt, a thin black blouse that outlined the contours of her voluptuous body, a pair of black panties, and a bra of thin transparent lace whose cups were opened at the end to allow her nipples to come freely in contact with the silky material of the blouse.

The chill and her own anticipation combined to make those twin peaks jut brazenly as she approached the door of ‘The Djinns’.

She was welcomed into the house by a pleasant and very young maid, also dressed in a short black skirt and filmy blouse. A little white apron and a knot in her hair completed the sensual livery. Monique could tell she was naked under the outfit, the blouse being filled by two very large, very round boobs.

She showed Monique into a spacious boudoir, then left her standing in the middle of the room. A moment later another woman entered. She was tall and severe in appearance. Her long hair fell to her shoulders in supple rolls; it was so blonde that it looked silvery in the waning light. Her eyes were grey-blue, almost icy; the mouth full and sensuous. Her large, firm breasts were covered with a triangle of black silk that left her back entirely bare. Around her neck was a diamond pendant that glittered like a third eye. The woman’s long skirt was molded tightly to her belly, hips, and buttocks, and a long slit in the material unveiled a shapely leg sheathed in black silk and enhanced by black pumps with bright buckles. In her hand, Madame Lager-for Monique concluded it was she-was holding a thin bamboo whip of about forty inches. She eyed Monique without a word, but the girl could see Madame Lager’s pupils dilate with lust when they came to rest on her ample tits and her curvaceous ass. Then she held her hand out to Monique and smiled.

“Welcome. Here we may dispense with formalities. I am called Selma. I think that Claudie Merval in her letter probably described to you and your aunt the common affinities that unite us. I rely on your discretion. It is possible that you will know a number of the faces you will see here. You will have to forget them immediately and completely when you walk outside these doors.” She turned and paced the floor as if giving disciplinary instructions to a troublesome student. “I know I can trust you, for I know your aunt and Mrs. Merval very well and in turn trust their judgment. If our company is not to your taste you will, of course, be free to go... and never return. On the other hand, you must never forget that our little club obeys drastic rules. The flesh is our only leader; you will have to let it be your leader, too. Whatever desires you may have, you will be forced to expose them without any thought of modesty. Nobody will laugh at you, no more than you will laugh at the others. If you like our games, you may come and seek refuge and oblivion whenever you please. In the afternoon or night, you will always find here that which will fulfill your innermost desires.” She snapped the bamboo rod into the palm of her hand. “Now come, my dear, and let us begin your ‘education’.”

A trifle surprised by Selma’s boldness, Monique nonetheless allowed herself to be led by the hand through a long corridor to a room where the perfume was of rich Oriental scents and naked flesh. The chamber was dimly lit, and when she was guided to a low sofa she quickly sat down for fear of falling in the semi-darkness. When her eyes grew accustomed to the lack of lighting, she began to distinguish the contours of a certain number of silhouettes. These were either sprawled in languorous positions on cushions spread on the floor, or sitting on the low divans scattered in the room. A suggestion of Oriental music thrummed in the air. Seven women, all nude or nearly so, lay on the ground smoking aromatic cigarettes, oblivious to the rest of the world, hypnotized by the throbbing beat of the music. Monique could feel their eyes glued to her body, as though they could see the way her curves strained against the material of her clothes. She tore her gaze away and returned to the examination of her surroundings.

The room was spacious and richly carpeted. The walls were covered with dark red velvet ornamented with draperies and tapestries that depicted erotic scenes. Each one represented a different sexual act-a woman taking a huge, stiff cock in her mouth; two men penetrating a female from front and back; a man lying on his back while a woman lowered herself onto his erect organ; a male licking the widely-spread pussy of a recumbent female. More than one of the pictures was devoted to the sensual pleasures obtained by two - or more - women together. The tapestries were spaced evenly around the walls, except for one end of the room that consisted of a large window, looking into another chamber even darker than the one they were in.

Selma came by and offered Monique a glass of champagne. Then she took the novice by the hand and introduced her to the other participants.

“This is Lydia,” she said as she brought Monique to the nearest woman, “a charming widow whose family name is held in high esteem in social circles, but need not interest us here.”

Monique felt the woman’s lips press against her hand. She shivered with delight and examined her more attentively. She was plump, but pleasantly so. Her thighs were amply revealed by a high-lifted skirt and her generous breasts capped with their dark circles were unveiled by the open blouse.

“Gladys-a young student presently enjoying her vacation. You may find much in common, though talk may not be uppermost in your minds.”

The handshake of the girl was strong. Monique guessed her age at sixteen or seventeen. The nude body reclining on the couch was lithe and limber, all long legs and smoothly rounded boobs and hips.

Monique could see a thin puff of hair like spun gold on the brazenly-displayed mount. She wanted to see more closely but was thwarted by the dimness and Selma’s prod to continue their tour. Monique shivered again, but this time under the calm scrutiny of the girl’s steel-blue eyes.

“Here we have Vera, the mother of two charming young girls. Of course, you will meet them soon as well, in a few moments.” The introduction continued now, and faster. “Katia, a cousin from my own homeland of Norway... ” A smile, tender eyes, and the alluring grace of a fifteen-year-old’s body held Monique’s eyes captive. “... Genevieve, our sweet Parisian, except for yourself, of course, my dear. Oulia, a little jewel of the Middle East,” she tapped the round, dark thigh of the reclining girl with the tip of her rod. “And finally, this one. But I don’t know if I should introduce you to this rebellious little thing.” She was standing beside a girl of twenty-four or twenty-five, Monique guessed, with red hair and an ample set of mounds that thrust against a jersey of patterned flannel. “Come on, Gertli, show us your face!” The girl raised her head and showed delicately pretty features. “No, no, not that one!” And Selma rapped the end of the rod on the tender flesh of the girl’s thigh. In response, haltingly, and seductively, the girl’s hand worked its way down and raised the shirt. She was naked underneath. Her belly was pale and flat, flaring into a pair of deliciously curved hips. The thighs were long and gracefully formed; between them was a strawberry-mossed pussy that fairly begged to be eaten. The moist lips were a rosy smile.

“Now then,” said Selma to Monique as this banquet was spread before them, “this is Gertli, our Swiss miss. Complete with mounds and valleys,” she laughed, “and thick forests.” The rod was wandering along the deep slit and fumbling in the bushy matte of red hair. It penetrated slightly into the well and the girl lay back as if luxuriating in the violation. Then Selma withdrew the whip. “Everyone, daughters of Sodom, Venus, and Lesbos, your new friend, Monique.”

Monique could feel herself blushing in the darkness, ashamed by the attention she was drawing. Selma ordered her to sit again as the music changed. The sound was now a chant of pleasure, that of a woman under a precisely controlled caress. It seemed to be coming from behind one of the curtains at one end of the room, and Monique felt her breath quickening at the thought of what might be behind the drape. But what had transpired behind that barrier had apparently reached its completion, for the sounds lapsed into meaningless words that are the climax of loveplay, and then there was silence.

The room was just as quiet as the occupants savored the voluptuousness of the moment-the calm following the ardent embrace. Monique, unsure of what now to expect, looked around the room at her new companions. Gladys, leaning over Lydia, was slowly caressing the naked breasts. The hands kneaded the flesh and crushed the engorged nipples between roving fingers. Meanwhile Selma, who kneeled behind Monique, had now run her hands beneath Monique’s blouse and was lightly massaging her tits while she nibbled at the girl’s ear. Monique arched her back so as to bring her breasts more fully into the cupping enclosure of Selma’s palms. “Isn’t it glorious?” whispered Selma in her ear.

By way of answer Monique silently pressed her hand while her nipples swelled beneath the woman’s ministrations. She could feel the wetness increasing between her legs.

Just then the drape lifted. Behind it, by a thick-cushioned couch, stood a young girl. The body was thin and just barely nubile-and stark naked. Monique’s eyes widened with lust. The breasts were a gentle swell that promised greater things in but another year or two; the stomach was flat and the hips just beginning to round; the thighs were long and well-formed; there was a shadow of hair on the mount, below which pouted the pink little slit of a fine cunt. The girl had short-cropped hair and wide eyes that shone with pleasure in the shadowed room. She came closer to Monique and Selma.

“And, as I promised, this is Dounia, one of Vera’s daughters.”

Dounia bent her head and offered her lips for Monique to kiss. Monique could taste the musky sweetness of a woman’s juices on her lips and immediately became aroused.

The young girl was already sliding her hands into the opening of Monique’s blouse. In a murmur of silk she stripped the garment from her, exposing the black bra and the boldly staring nipples, which were turgid and pebble hard. Selma ordered Monique to rise. When she did so, Dounia unhooked the black skirt in a twinkling; it fell to the floor in a limp bundle. All eyes were focused on Monique now. A moment more and Dounia had torn the bra and panties from her, freeing her treasures from their silky jails for all to see and admire.

Selma’s hands held Monique’s wrists, effectively preventing her from concealing any part of her body in her modesty. Meanwhile, Dounia, kneeling, began licking and kissing the finespun growth between Monique’s thighs. The girl’s tongue snaked around her mount, writhing along its outer fringes before settling lower down on the pink lips that seemed almost to gasp now from Monique’s increasing excitement. That gentle tongue darted at each fold, teasing and prodding the tender flesh. Then it plunged into the moist slit itself and began scouring the conch-hued membranes with practiced flicks until Monique began to tremble and mildly protest beneath the caress. She barely felt some of the others, ignoring her feeble complaints, turn her over one of the couches, spread-eagling her wide.

As in a dream she saw ardent faces leaning over her succulent body. Two insistent mouths began to nibble at her rose-budded tits, licking and worrying the nipples until they rose dark and stiff from the quivering mounds. Unseen hands pressed all the rounded parts of her body - her waist, her hips, even her buttocks, though they were held against the cushions of the couch. A mouth - she didn’t know whose - was glued to her pussy and she could feel her body succumbing to a slow inexorable suction. At the same time, a finger found the brown flower between her buttocks, and slowly penetrated the clasping orifice. The slight pain as the digit probed more deeply was drowned by a paroxysm of pleasure that rose in a burning wave from the tips of her toes to the very top of her head. The mouth was sucking harder and harder at her cunt; her hips were bucking now to bring her pulsating clit more closely into contact with the stabbing tongue if that were possible. The finger up her ass was plunging in and out and rotating fitfully. Her body, and then her lips, were lathered with kisses. She gave herself up totally, closing her eyes so as not to see Selma’s- enflamed with desire for her-looking straight into hers. Then she could control herself no longer and released her body into the tidal wave of ecstasy that engulfed her. Spasm after spasm washed over her, her body arching violently with their intensity. She moaned and cried out, finally uttering a panting cry that died under the lips of Selma, covering her mouth.

When she finally opened her eyes, Dounia was just rising to her feet between her thighs, still contemplating the damp pink cunt and the juices that ran down Monique’s legs. Suddenly Selma appeared, panting, angry. “Who allowed you?” she cried to no one in particular. “Who allowed you to do that? You threw yourselves on her like bitches in heat! She was to belong to me first.” She picked up her whip and slashed it through the air in front of the worried group of women. Her eyes came to rest on Dounia, still between Monique’s legs.

“Did I give you permission to do what you have just done? No? Well, you know what’s in store for bad little girls, don’t you? Now down... on your back!”

She pushed the girl down onto the couch beside Monique and forced her legs apart. The thin thighs were spread wide, exposing fully the barely-mossed mound and exposing the tight young slit. Monique was surprised to see Dounia’s nipples were erect and pointing at the ceiling. Selma placed herself by the upturned head of the girl as Monique slid aside, still unsteady from the effects of the others’ ministrations. Dounia, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, awaited her punishment.

Selma put the tip of the rod on the protruding cunt, almost caressingly, sending visible chills through her victim’s body. Dounia grabbed at the material of the couch at the first sound of a whistling murmur. The rod crashed on her sensitive flesh, leaving a red line that rose above the skin and deepened in hue. Dounia gave a cry of pain and shivered, before the rod descended hissing once again. It kissed her mount harshly so that the thighs jerked apart revealing the pink little cunt now criss-crossed with the scarlet welt.

Monique, horror-stricken, looked at the girl. Their eyes met as the rod descended yet again on the soft flesh. She cringed as she saw the new thin line on the young mound, parallel with the others. Monique glanced around in desperation. How could these others do nothing? Even Vera, the girl’s own mother, simply leaned forward as if contemplating the offering of her daughter, a vague look of pleasure suffusing her face.

Dounia gave another louder cry. The rod had just whipped upward and flicked the girl’s slit. She pitifully tried to hold her thighs together to prevent a repetition of the blow, but the next angle of descent came as a surprise and again caught the fringe of her pussy. Without pause the rod crashed, again leaving a scarlet tracery on the nearly unadorned mount. Selma’s eyes shone with sadistic joy. With sharp, snapping blows she concentrated on the most sensitive areas - between the thighs, along the edges of the cunt, across the engorged tips of the budding breasts. Another specially well-aimed blow found the erect little clit, ripping a heart-rending cry from Dounia’s lips.

Monique could take no more. “No! Not that! That’s enough!”

Selma stopped her torture and whirled on Monique. “Who then? You, perhaps?”

“None of this was her fault,” Monique haltingly offered.

“Then you must be the cause,” sneered Selma. “Feel free to take her place.”

There was total silence in the room. Selma shook her head, smiling faintly, and placed her rod on Dounia’s pain-wracked pubis.

But before she could strike the girl Monique rose, splendid in her nakedness. She brought Dounia to her feet and softly kissed her lips, then turned toward Selma without expression.

Selma passed the tip of her rod across the velvety golden hair of Monique’s cunt. “Dounia’s pussy was bare, or nearly so,” she said. “Yours is not. I will chastise you on the other side. Kneel down!” she ordered.

Monique heard, but hesitated to obey.

“What? Wasn’t I clear? Or is it time to ask Dounia back... ?”

“No, not the girl,” said Monique. She bent down to the carpet, leaning forward against the couch, offering her splendid rump to the impatient Selma. The mistress of the house caressed the ass in front of her with the tip of the rod, her eyes shining with naked lust at the sight of the wonderful landscape before her. But Selma wasn’t yet satisfied.

“I want to hit the pussy, not the ass! I didn’t tell you to lean on the couch!”

Monique rose up and looked at Selma, who contemplated her with impassive grey eyes. She wanted to rebel, to tell this strangely exciting woman to keep her tortures and her bizarre delights for the next unwitting victim. But at the same time she could see Dounia standing to one side, the stripes on her mound darker shadows in the dim room. Monique lowered her head. abandoning all shame and resistance. Her luscious rear she turned up, but her thighs she kept closed. She could feel the rod insinuating itself between her buttocks, till it rested where the hair mixed with the labial flesh of her cunt.

“I said I wanted your pussy,” repeated Selma.

Monique panicked for a moment - and was surprised to feel a voluptuous thrill that was as much of an automatic response as her fear. Slowly she opened her thighs widely and offered to the eyes of all the women present her damp, rose-hued cunt. She felt the rod at the opening of her vagina, testing the tautness of the lips, probing lightly the opening to her valley of delight. Selma placed herself behind her, slightly to one side, the rod low.

Then Monique heard the subtle displacement of air and the whip slithered between her legs, perpendicular to her cunt. She groaned with surprise more than pain and tensed her muscles for the second blow. But it wasn’t forthcoming.

“Get up,” ordered Selma. “I am not at ease to chastise your flesh.”

Not knowing what to expect, Monique rose to her feet, the purple of shame entering her cheeks.

Selma nodded imperceptibly. She knew what she was doing; she wanted to cancel in Monique that modesty that impeded the full expansion of her desires. She pushed Monique onto the couch, legs upraised on the thick cushions. “You opened your thighs much better a moment ago under Dounia’s mouth,” she murmured. “Am I less that you won’t do the same for me?” With the tip of the whip she tapped the full flesh of Monique’s thighs.

Monique hesitated, just long enough for Selma to rear back and bring the supple rod across her mount. Monique jumped and cried out as a scarlet line marred the whiteness of her flesh.

Monique glared at her tormentor, but she was met with cold eyes that admittedly fascinated her by their apparent lack of feeling. Slowly she opened her legs entirely, revealing the full glory of her slightly yawning cunt haloed by her golden hair.

Finally Selma smiled. She positioned herself astraddle Monique’s head, holding the front of her dress up with one hand. Beneath the silky material Monique could see little but the pink shell of Selma’s pussy. It seemed to beckon to her and draw her with its musky sweetness. She reached down blindly and put her hands on Selma’s ankles. As she drew the inviting slit closer to her mouth, she could feel the rod rubbing against her pussy, separating the soft lips to stroke more violently the erect clitoris. She released her breath in a drawn-out sigh as an intense warmth irradiated her body, spreading outward and upward from her thighs to her breasts. She groaned under the continued gentle lashing of her clit, her eyes still glued to Selma’s cunt, dancing in front of her at each blow of the rod. In spite of herself she began to enjoy the pain, it becoming more and more pleasurable as her excitement increased. As if sensing this, Selma began to hit her harder and harder, across the belly, breasts, and especially criss-crossing her pussy. The tip of the rod finally found its way to the brown flower of her asshole, and insinuated itself slightly within while Monique writhed and gasped wantonly.

When she felt the spasms reach their peak in Monique’s abdomen, and she could see the creamy juices beginning to run down her thighs, Selma leaned forward at Monique’s silent urging. She stopped her violation of Monique’s ass and bent to kiss her bare belly. Beneath her shift she could feel Monique’s greedy lips reach her dripping cunt. They began to lap at her slit, worrying and nibbling like a dog at the bone, first circling the tender folds, then centering on the engorged pleasure bud itself. In response, her mouth traced a path downward to Monique’s mount. She licked all around, saturating the golden hair before moving to the hurt clit and lavishing it with sweet caresses. She pushed her tongue as far as she could into the steaming hole, feeling Monique shudder in ecstasy. At the same time her finger, lubricated by the sap oozing out of Monique’s crevice, was rotating in and out of the girl’s asshole, bringing her to an even higher state of elation. She plunged into the starfish-shaped orifice faster and faster until Monique’s hips began to buck spastically once again.

As she did this, Selma was being sucked passionately beneath her skirt. Monique was no longer mistress of herself as she devoured the pussy in front of her. Selma’s legs trembled as Monique’s tongue penetrated her, flicking at the swollen membranes and sucking on the tiny throbbing knob. Forgetting all the others in the room, forgetting all human dignity, the two women panted like beasts as they went at each other, bringing each other to nerve-shattering orgasms that seemed never to end. Their tongues attacked each other’s dripping box while they grunted and cried and strained, finally collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

Selma was the first to regain consciousness, and she immediately embraced Monique again, kissing her on the lips so as to taste her own lingering juices. They lay on the couch, silently contemplating the forms and silhouettes of their friends who had abandoned themselves to a wild bacchanalia. Their naked bodies rolled on the floor, mouths glued to breasts, mounds crushing mounds, lips teasing pussies. Dounia, her mouth glued to her mother’s cunt, was in a position that offered her smooth round rump to the eyes of Monique and Selma.

“How I would love to rape that girl,” murmured Selma in her ear.

Monique looked at the woman between half-lowered eyelashes, unknowing of the means at Selma’s disposal for the satisfaction of her desires.

The rattles and moans continued, uttered by mouths contracted with pleasure, or smothered in the soft hair of another’s cunt. Then there was silence, and Selma, after offering more champagne, turned the stereo on. One by one the delicious women began to dress and leave the chamber of love.

“Will you come back?” asked Selma without looking at Monique.

“Yes,” the girl replied before she was even aware of what she was saying.

“Then come back quickly, my dear,” the woman replied. “I will make you feel things you never suspected were possible.”

Monique shivered under the ardent gaze of that woman and left the house troubled. She spent a restless, sleepless night. Her anger at herself for giving in so easily to Selma conflicted with her desire to be completely possessed by that dominating goddess. She gathered little consolation from the knowledge that the others present must also have surrendered themselves in similar fashion. Certainly no man had ever stirred in her such unrestrained passions.

By coincidence she ran into Selma the next afternoon during a walk in the woods. The woman was collecting thin branches from a variety of trees; Monique didn’t need to guess their purpose.

Selma immediately guessed the tumultuous discord in Monique’s mind and gathered her in a tight embrace that left Monique breathless and even more confused. But this time Selma didn’t bother to conceal the desire that she had for her new pupil. She could easily have laid Monique down on the pine needles carpeting the forest floor, but instead she simply pressed the girl’s buttocks through her thin dress and whispered in her ear: “How I wish it could be you tonight under the whips, instead of Lydia. I would make you come like a goddess. She will pay for you tonight!”

Monique freed herself from the embrace and the two women considered each other in silence. Monique turned away. “It is completely undignified and stupid to let oneself go as I did last night.” But she seemed unsure.

Selma drew close. Her strange eyes melted Monique’s sudden urge to run away. The woman was beautiful, her body made for exotic pleasures and meant to be used by both male and female.

Monique tried to remain passive and disinterested under the compelling gaze, fighting her awakening wish to possess and be possessed by her.

Selma placed her hands on the generous swell of Monique’s breasts. Her voice was sweet, but authoritative. “I have to know everything that is concealed within your body. You will have to give yourself entirely to me. Entirely, do you hear me? Last night was simply an introduction, a faltering first step. None of your passions, your desires, must remain secret to me. You will come tomorrow afternoon. We will be alone, just the two of us, with our desire. After that you will be a greater part of me. I will fuck you as no man has ever fucked you. You will come... ?”

Her mouth was brushing past Monique’s as she said this. Monique couldn’t resist, could barely even think. She kissed Selma’s lips in return, gnawing hungrily at the moist flesh and plunging her tongue into the woman’s open mouth. Her fingers found Selma’s stiff nipples through the cloth of her blouse, and twisted them severely. She promised to do whatever Selma wished...

 

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