Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
(Charlotte)
The moment Matt and I split up at the doors, I felt like I’d made a grave mistake. With the exception of the spa, which he had arranged for me, I’d been with him every step of the way. I worried that without him, my libido would be unfettered. I had no idea what I would get up to on my own.
I wandered through the lobby, distracted by the competing muffled rhythms of music in the different areas of the castle. Snickering at the “please, no sex acts on the stairs” sign on its golden stand at the top of the steps, I started down to the theater.
The theater lobby was crowded with fully nude people; my skimpy dress made me feel downright modest. I didn’t think I would ever get use to seeing so much flesh shamelessly displayed, nor the way people casually touched each other; a man used a huge pink dildo on a woman who lay moaning and clutching her breasts right there on one of the benches across from the “concession” stand.
More signs indicated the orgy would include barrier-free sex and reminders about safe word etiquette, with a little traffic light illustration. Yellow indicated a person didn’t care for the act being performed, but red would indicate that a participant wanted to stop entirely. I wondered how long it would take me to utter “red” tonight. Hopefully, I’d remember to stop while I could still crawl back to the house.
I joined the line of people entering the theater floor and noted others already leaving, laughing and toweling off, leaving jellied footprints on the carpet. Two bouncers stood at the doors, informing each patron of the rules as we passed by.
“No clothing past this point,” one of them said to me.
“Oh.” I paused and looked around me, then, seeing no other option, pulled my dress over my head. “Should I…”
Without a word, he took the garment from me. “We’ll send this up to the house.”
“You know who I am?” I asked, but the natural movement of the crowd urged me along, through the doors.
If there was a place they could post a warning about the floor being slippery, that place was covered in big red and black signs warning that the floor would be slippery. Grippy, textured mats lay in aisles between the black tarps stretched over the rest of the floor and led up to the waist-high pool. There was no ladder; staff members helped guests in and out.
A person with a short black pixie cut offered me a hand. Her name tag read “Storm” and supplied her pronouns, but also provided me with a reason to look at her incredible, gravity-defying tits in her otherwise plain black T-shirt. She was short and slender but had no trouble lifting me by my waist and dropping me into the pool.
I squealed at the coldness and weird feeling of being dipped full-body in lube. Somehow, despite knowing what was in the pool, my brain had still expected water, and my nerves rebelled at how squishy everything felt.
Someone waded toward me. A blonde with an hourglass body and pale, heavily tattooed skin. “Hey,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Bree.”
“I’m…” I didn’t have a fake name at the ready. “Anonymous.”
She grinned at that. “Okay, Anonymous. Do you like girls?”
“It depends on the girl.” I shivered. “And the temperature, to be honest. I think I might die in here.”
“It’s a get in, get out kind of thing. But you’re not even covered yet.” And with that, she scooped up two handfuls of the jelly-consistency liquid and smeared it across my breasts. My nipples, already hard from the shock of cold, suddenly ached for her touch.
I quickly glanced around the room. Masses of bodies writhed on the tarps, the lube coating them occasionally refreshed by a bucketful tossed over them by staff members. There wasn’t just moaning, but a lot of laughter. The sex happening around me was unabashedly silly. I wanted in on it.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said to Bree, and we moved toward the staff members, who helped us out with their grippy gloves. The moment my feet hit the floor, they almost slid out from under me.
“It’s easier if you crawl,” Bree said, and I got the feeling she’d been to one of these parties before. I followed her on my hands and knees, getting the most amazing view of her big round ass and a flash of a piercing peeking out from between her labia. We reached one of the rare bare spots on a nearby tarp, and she collapsed into a puddle of lube.
She crooked her finger to beckon me over, and I slid to a stop beside her on the plastic sheet. Our bodies came into full contact, all soft and dripping with slipperiness, and she sighed, arching her back. I couldn’t resist; I ran my hands over her tits, down her waist, over her hips, and back up, my legs parting around her thigh. I rubbed my mound against her and the lack of friction was oddly frustrating and arousing at the same time.
She gripped my ass, digging her fingers in to hold on. Someone else’s leg bumped against us and a muffled “Sorry” came from somewhere in the impossible knot of limbs to our left. To our right, someone was being held down by two very muscular people while another gripped the prone figure’s cock in two hands, twisting and pumping vigorously, ignoring their victim’s half-hearted pleas for mercy.
I reached between myself and Bree; there didn’t seem to be any reason to take things slow. My fingers encountered her small triangle of pubic hair and the cool metal of her hood piercing. I rubbed one finger around her clit, behind the piercing, and she mewled deliciously in my ear. Her hand sought me out too, but so did the person held down beside me. The big palm covered my breast, groping for it, and I angled myself to give them better access.
“Can I join in?” someone asked close to my ear. I looked up to see a slender figure with a strap-on around their waist. The dildo seemed comically large, but with all the lube around us, I had no doubt it would make its way into any number of holes, no problem.
Bree rose up on her knees in invitation, but everything was far too slick. She ended up braced over me, our breasts gliding and squashing together, and we both laughed.
“Where do you want it?” the person with the strap-on asked. Their long, dark hair was braided back and their deeply tan skin shone wetly, like all the rest of us did under the pulsing, colored lights.
Without hesitation, Bree answered, “My ass,” and the person climbed into position behind her with more grace than Bree had managed. Bree’s eyes flew open, staring into mine with a mixture of shock and pain; our third hadn’t held back with their thrust.
A long, low, “Fuck,” issued from Bree’s mouth, and she dropped her head. “Fuck, that’s good.”
She trapped my clit between two fingers, rocking them back and forth, and I pumped my hips in time, the lube beneath me squelching with each movement. There was too much stimulation, all around me. The driving beat of the music, the constant slide of skin on skin, Bree’s grunts and cries as she begged the person with the strap-on to go harder, faster, and the way her fingers on my clit sped up when they obliged her.
Every thrust of the stranger’s hips rocked Bree against me. My brain desperately tried to keep up with my body, but it couldn’t process anything but sensation. I climbed higher, higher, lost in dizzying hunger for more stimulation, more depravity, more, more, until I burst with a tight, high cry that made Bree laugh through her own moans.
“That was so cute. Let’s do it again,” she said, but those fingers went lower, entering me so easily that I sucked in a breath with a surprised gulp. It wasn’t two fingers. It was three, then the fourth, and with a split second of shocking pressure, her small hand was inside me.
“Oh god!” I curled up from the floor, reaching down to grip her wrist. I didn’t want to pull it out, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t imagining what I was feeling. She twisted her hand back and forth, the widest part putting near-painful pressure on my G-spot.
“Wait,” I gasped. “I should warn you, if you do that—”
But it was too late. My excitement at the sheer perversity of the entire situation made the sudden penetration enough to tip me over again, and her hand kept hitting me just right. I felt a warm gush as my orgasm hit me like a baseball bat.
“Warn me what?” she moaned into my ear, her hand stilling.
“Nothing, keep going!” I was probably not the only person adding sex fluids to the mix, and while the thought would probably have disgusted me at any other time, I found myself hoping that it wasn’t only lube on me.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” a deep voice said from somewhere nearby, and I found myself calling out, “Come on me!” I barely saw the person the cock was attached to before hot droplets showered onto my face, and a large hand smeared it into my skin and hair.
It was disgusting. Depraved. I loved every second.
Every thrust with the strap-on pulled Bree away from me a little. Her hand slid from my cunt and I found myself somehow involved in a totally different group. Someone’s cock poked between my ass cheeks; I politely but firmly pushed it away, only for another to ram into my sore, stretched pussy from the front. I wound my legs around a muscular back and went with it, every thrust sliding us across the tarp.
Communication devolved entirely. Anyone on the tarp was fair game, it seemed. I couldn’t even get a good look at the owner of the dick in me. I ended up closing my eyes and surrendering to the push and pull of the bodies around me. I lost track of how many hands and dicks ended up inside me, how many cunts I put my fingers in, how much cum ended up inside and on me.
Eventually, there came a time when I couldn’t even tell if I was having a orgasm or if I’d just had one; they all blended together until it felt like I would never stop and sheer sexual bliss would become my permanent state of being. I thrashed and screamed as hands held me down and fingers penetrated my abused pussy. I moaned and rubbed my clit while I watched it happening to someone else.
More than once, fresh lube would fall over everyone in a wet slap; it was one of those that shocked me back to my senses. I gently pushed at whoever was currently fucking me—at that point, I could barely feel anything, anyway—and said, “Sorry. Red.”
They immediately released my hips and I wriggled to the nearest edge of the tarp, trying to get to my feet on the grippy mat. I couldn’t quite manage it; my legs were too tired to receive signals from my dizzy and disoriented brain. A staff member was at my side instantly, helping me to my feet.
It was Storm, the woman who’d helped me into the pool.
“Wow, you’re strong,” I said, and without thinking, squeezed her rock-hard bicep.
She laughed and pushed my slimy hand aside. “Let’s get you into the locker room.”
****
(Matthew)
“Please,” he whimpered. “I can’t take it anymore.”
My partner for the evening lay spread-eagle on the bench, his hands gripping the soft restraints that, despite his earlier proclamation, he’d ended up asking for. His erection bobbed helplessly, the only part of him I hadn’t touched in the two hours I’d been working on him.
I’d started with a paintbrush. A simple thing with fan-shaped bristles that I’d tickled over him from the soles of his feet up. Could I have commanded him to suck me off and let me fuck his ass? Yes. But I was feeling a diabolical level of patience tonight, and he’d been all for it when I’d suggested letting me tease him a little bit.
Two hours later, he appeared to be changing his mind. Sweat stood out on every bulging, straining muscle. Precum leaked in a steady stream from the tip of his cock while the vibrating plug in his ass throbbed against his prostate. He’d almost come from that stimulation alone, more than once. But, like a good boy, he’d followed instructions. He’d warned me when his release was close, and I’d simply turned off the vibrations to deny him.
“I have to come,” he rasped, near tears. “Please.”
“Your throat sounds awfully dry.” I unzipped my pants and pulled out my own painfully hard dick. My commitment to tormenting him tortured me, as well. I stroked down the length and watched his eyes widen at the sight of me. With a cruel smile, I warned, “Yes, all of this is going inside you tonight.”
“Anything,” he begged, wetting his lips. “I’ll let you do anything to me. I need to come.”
“You’re going to come,” I said, clucking my tongue. “I’ve already told you that you’ll get to come. I don’t know why you keep asking.”
He whimpered, and I tapped the head of my cock against his lips.
“You wanted to suck my cock,” I reminded him.
“Yes, fuck, anything!” He bucked against the bench, and I laughed at his predicament.
“Slide up. Hang your head off the side.” I’d adjusted the bench’s height for the duration of our session so far; I pressed my foot on the pedal to slightly lower him. He eagerly scrambled to comply, his mouth falling open in obedience.
It was obvious he’d never sucked a dick in his life, but his technique suggested he’d received some truly life-changing blow jobs. Though he was a little clumsy, he knew how to use his tongue, and he was eager to swallow down as much of my length as he could. I followed his lead with shallow pumps of my hips, since he didn’t have the leverage for that kind of motion. With his head bent back over the edge of the bench, he was in the perfect position for me to fuck his face. He drew on me hard, moaned low in his chest, whirled his tongue around my shaft like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, and he was desperate for more. His stamina was incredible. I let him go on dangerously long.
“Stop.” I pulled out finally, breathing deep. “I almost let you go too far.”
He choked and lifted his head, and I quickly released his wrists. He sat up, coughing.
“Water?” I asked. His hand strayed toward his dick. “Keep your hands off it.”
“No water, I’m fine,” he said. He reached for his cock again.
“If you touch it, I won’t,” I warned him.
It wasn’t as if he couldn’t find someone else in the castle to do it. But he wanted me to get him off. He was long past the point of starting over with someone else. I had him under my total control.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked.
He nodded frantically.
“Lay back.”
He positioned himself on the bench, prone, and I gave one of his thighs a light slap. “Get them up.”
There was a moment of confusion on his end, but he raised his legs a little. I pushed his knees to his chest. “Hold them.”
I made him wait that way while I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off over my head. I took my time stepping out of my shoes and taking down my trousers. And when I was completely naked, I stood back, watching him as his eyes roved hungrily over me. I stroked my cock, the way I wasn’t allowing him to stroke his, and rolled a condom down my length.
With his hands beneath his knees and his legs up and apart, he was entirely vulnerable to me. I gave the plug in his ass a few twists before I pulled it out, reveling in his hisses and groans. The lube I’d used on the plug wasn’t sufficient; I slid another applicator into his ass and pushed the plunger. The sound he made as the cold lube squirted inside him was delightful. There was no such thing as too much, so I grabbed another applicator and emptied it into him before pumping lube from the bottle and slicking it over myself.
“Do you want it slow?” I asked, kneeling on the bench and rubbing my tip against his hole.
He tried to squirm onto me. “No. Just put it in. Fuck, just do it.”
“It might hurt,” I pressed forward, feeling the slight resistance give way. “I’m big.”
“I’m not afraid, man, fuck me!” he shouted.
I gave him what he wanted. I gave him the whole thing in one hard thrust.
He immediately appeared to change his mind. The guttural groan that escaped him sounded far more like pain then pleasure.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I slowly withdrew until only the head of me remained inside. “Should I take it out?”
He shook his head, lips compressed into a thin white line, perspiration of a different kind standing out on his forehead. He was a tough guy, and he didn’t want to be broken.
I wanted to break him.
I pushed deep again and set up a punishing rhythm, and finally, finally I took his cock between my lubed-up hands. He’d gone a little soft; I brought him back to the excruciating, throbbing hardness he’d had before. His breathing accelerated. His muscles went taut. “I’m gonna—”
He curled up from the bench, still holding onto his legs to keep them up and wide, and he let out a howl of pure relief that I was sure could be heard outside despite the soundproofing foam in the walls. I only had to pump him a couple of strokes before he shot thick slashes of cum across his belly and chest. I kept stroking him, keeping time to every slap of my hips against his ass, polishing the ruby head of his tortured cock while he thrashed and panted.
I wouldn’t last long, and I knew it. It was too gratifying, too fucking hot to have reduced him to a whimpering, pleading mass of over-sensitized flesh.
“You know your word,” I reminded him. “You just have to say ‘red’ and it will all be over.”
“Fuck you!” he barked at me, then whined pathetically and gritted his teeth as I gave a particularly vicious twist around his cock head.
I was nearly at the edge, trying my best to make it last for him but knowing all the way I was going to fail miserably. I stroked him faster, felt him tense up again.
“I can’t do it twice,” he panted, pleading.
But he could, and he did, gasping at the agonizing pleasure as more cum oozed from his tip to roll over the back of my hand. I lifted my fingers to my mouth, holding his gaze as I licked them clean.
There was no way to prolong things now. Not with the taste of him on my mouth and the tight ring of his ass sliding back and forth on my shaft. I pumped into him harder and let go with a low grunt, driving deep and staying there until my cock finished twitching and pulsing.
I raised my head and gave him a slanted smile. “Well, congratulations. You’ve been with a man now.”
He laughed and ran a hand over his stubbly short hair. “You might have ruined me for other guys, though.”
That was exactly what I liked to hear.