Filthy Doctor(173)
“It’s time,” Sol said. “Come.”
The bedroom was farther from the bathroom than she’d thought it would be, which gave her enough time to waver between desire and “What the fuck am I doing?” as they followed Mars’ massive figure past a half-dozen closed doors. “What’s in there?” asked Calvin.
“Things that don’t concern you,” said Sol.
Mars opened the door—the bedroom was not a nineteenth-century boudoir nor a love suite out of the seventies; she didn’t quite know what to make of the room. There was wood paneling on the bottom half of the wall and ornate, gilded wall paper in red and gold on the top half, but the rest of the space was simple. A dresser against the wall, white gauzy curtains, and the massive bed was in the middle—and there were silk scarves and blindfolds spread out on it. She balked, but Altaire and Mars were pulling her along and Calvin was too dazed by Sol’s patter about what was going to happen now to notice that she was getting dragged over to the bed, and her vision went black when the cool silk slid over her eyes.
“I’m not into kinky stuff,” she protested, but then she felt hands on her body, easing her down on the bed, and she could hear Sol’s voice saying, “Now, if you don’t mind, Calvin, take your hand—no, everybody always wants to start with the pussy, but you saw how eager she was back there, didn’t you? Yes, like that—”
She felt a mouth close around her nipple—and then another one. Calvin’s body was hot against hers—and much to her surprise she felt another naked body, firm and hard underneath her hand, writhing against her. She felt her legs coming together of their own accord, but someone forced them apart and Calvin slid himself down her body, pressing warm kisses to her belly. Then he was gone, and then someone—she didn’t know who—was kissing and licking her pussy, running his tongue against her clit and his lips and tongue against the folds, while hands—tugged at her nipples until her body drenched the sheets between her legs. She cried and begged for release—
And then a cock thrust inside her, and while Mars—she could tell it was him, he was the biggest of them all—sat her up on his lap she could feel his erection hard against the small of her back. Was he really—
Whoever was thrusting inside her suddenly withdrew and suddenly she felt the rubbery tip of the cock against her mouth and she took it obediently, not the least because at that point she had to gasp as Mars shoved himself up her ass and groaned—he was huge so it hurt, and not in an entirely pleasant way, but he did it slowly enough so that whatever pain there was could be coated in a layer of pleasure, and eventually, when he was all in, she found the sense of fullness marvelous. Someone else shoved himself inside her cunt and all of the anticipation that she’d been accruing for the past two hours came to a head and as the three of them thrust inside her the waves of pleasure and ecstasy took her to entirely new heights. She suddenly understood why masturbating wasn’t everything—her body drank in everything the men had to give, greedy for the sudden rush she knew was coming, eager for it to be as big as possible.
And when it happened—when he came inside her mouth and then Mars slid out of her, and the release was total, complete. The cries that came out of her seemed to come from another world—the visions that danced in front of her eyes certainly did—and the gush of ecstasy went on and on, until finally, spent, she curled up on the bed. Someone removed the blindfold; another covered her naked body. This was the last thing she was aware of before she fell asleep.
***
“Are you still together?”
Two weeks later she’d gone back to see Sol and her stepbrothers, at their request. It was a family visit—they’d told her as much—but she was a little concerned when Sol showed her to the library where they’d started that epic session. “Yes,” she said, now, watching as Altaire poured her a cup of tea. “He’s learned a lot,” she added. “He makes me so, so happy.”
“We’re glad,” said Mars. He’d taken Calvin’s seat next to her, and his massive hand settled on her knee.
“All right, boys, what do you want?” Alisha asked. “Do you want to fuck me or something?”
Sol turned red. Alisha felt her eyes get big. She’d been joking—the session had been a success, and Calvin was now a much, much better lover. That was the end of it, right? “Seriously?” she asked, standing up. “I don’t fucking believe—”
“Please, hear us out,” said Altaire, now, putting a hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her back into the chair. She glared at him—it’d always been a mystery to her, how a man so slender and reedy could be so strong. “It’s not like that.”
“Then by all means, enlighten me—what’s it like?” she snapped.
Sol ran his fingers over the front of her dress, and she shivered when his touch brushed her nipple. “It’s like this,” Sol said. “We frequently find ourselves aiding single men who want to learn how to please a woman. They need, shall we say, practice. Some of them want to try out bondage, others want to try out being bound. Sometimes we have women, too, who want to command—”
“Wait, what?!”
“We need someone who’s relatively easy to bring to orgasm, a woman who’s open-minded to trying new things, and who isn’t ashamed to get naked in front of strangers—”
She flushed when she remembered that night at Blue Diamond. Hm, maybe they’ll teach me how to go down on the owner, she thought—and then at once she felt a deep and burning shame for having thought that. She was getting propositioned by her brothers—and all she wanted to was a VIP pass to the Blue Diamond? She’d always been a proponent of the idea that sex was fun and should be enjoyed, but the idea of going down on the owner of the Blue Diamond just to get a pass was too close to prostitution. “I never said I was into trying new things,” she protested. Sol looked at her: Really?
“We won’t let anybody else fuck you,” Altaire said, softly. “We’ll make sure that it’s one of us who’s going in-”
“Please, Alisha,” Sol said, brushing her other nipple with his hand. “Was it that bad the last time?”
“No,” she said. “But you’re talking about me having sex with someone else—I’m quite happy with Calvin, okay? You’ve seen to that already.”
“What if we told you that Calvin is okay with it?”
She felt her jaw drop open with surprise. “That doesn’t sound like Calvin at all,” she said. But then again, he had let three strangers touch her, and two of the cocks that had been inside her weren’t his. Sol was looking smugly, infuriatingly, amused again.
“As long as it’s one of us,” Mars said, sliding her dress up her leg. “You’ve got nothing on underneath,” he said, surprised.
“It’s laundry day,” Alisha muttered, turning red. Between that, and everything that Calvin had been doing to make her go wet and wild, she didn’t have anything clean that day. But it didn’t matter, so she’d told herself.
“Alisha,” Sol said, “just try this one thing, okay?”
“One thing,” she repeated.
Sol nodded. Altaire helped her to her feet, and said, “Feet shoulder-width apart, please.”
Sol pulled out a slender stick, with a little piece of stiff leather on the end. “What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s called a riding crop,” Sol said, slapping his own knee with the little patch of stiff leather. “In sex, it’s used to hit certain body parts, to elicit a certain reaction. Some of our clients find this pleasurable to watch—”
“—and some of them find it fun to do,” said Mars.
Sol dragged the crop over her breasts—and then he raised it suddenly and she flinched, bracing herself for the sting. She could imagine it falling on her nipple, the crisp smack as it hit her, the little shot of pain that would go through her. But the blow never fell—and much to her surprise the thought of getting hit made her wet.
So stepped up close to her and reached up her skirt, sliding two fingers into her cunt. “See, if you weren’t into this, you wouldn’t be wet,” he said, softly. “If the thought of you being taught how to take a fist didn’t excite you in the least you would have left at the beginning of this meeting, no matter what I’d asked. If the thought of getting your pussy hit with this stick really left you cold, you’d have closed your legs by now.”
Alisha didn’t know what to say. She didn’t quite know if what Sol was saying was really true, but it felt that way. “And yes,” Sol continued, “there’s the fact that you’re beautiful and we’d like to keep fucking you if we can.”
“We’re prepared to offer you forty percent,” said Mars.
“Forty percent?” she repeated. She was aware she sounded like an idiot.
“Of our profits, from the sessions that include you,” said Altaire. “You are, after all, the one who’s going to be putting up with men who couldn’t find a clit if you tattooed a little sign to it, saying, “I’m the clit!’”