Chapter 16 Martha
Martha
Acool object traces along my exposed skin.
Looking down, I find her. The creature from the mirror.
Those terrifying beady eyes remain wide while looking up my dress.
Today was not the day to forget my underpants.
But alas, here we are. What is done is done.
Say hello to my pussy, little lady, because she is fully on display.
She’s going to be disappointed because the days of the classic bush are no longer.
Once you hit a certain age, you become as bare as the day you were born. And I am well past that age.
“Excuse me, I’m not sure you are going to find anything up there, madame. I forgot my weapons at home. Please accept my sincerest apologies,” I extend out of a sign of respect and peace. I meant it when I said I mean no harm.
Madame continues her figure eights along the inside of my leg, teasing the tip slowly up the thin, sensitive skin.
The gesture is relaxing and as long as she doesn’t add those nasty-ass fingernails, we should be fine.
My shoulders relax and my back arches the higher she gets.
I’ve never had an erotic massage before, but if it’s like this every time I will need to look for a local provider for a follow-up.
My eyes hood, further relaxing into myself. This is bliss.
Another tick and hiss bring my attention back to the mischievous one testing me.
Exhaling slowly with my chest quivering, fists clench trying to control my reaction.
“Madame, you are being very naughty,” I half-ass scold her.
The farther the brush of her touch moves up my body, the more wood detailing is revealed.
A mixture of dark and light grains runs lengthwise.
It looks hand-carved and perfectly preserved.
Woodwork is only just one of many things I am an enthusiast over.
I can respect a well-curated piece such as this.
Then, under my gown, the brush disappears, and the tip teases my lips.
It automatically triggers my pelvis to grind back in return like the desperate little granny I am.
Madame attempts to impale me with it next, although the days of a dripping pussy are also behind us.
Lube is a requirement, and Madame catches on to that quickly.
Removing the comb from underneath the thin fabric, she brings it to her mouth, using her saliva as a home remedy.
Smart girl. “Such a good girl, aren’t you, Madame?
” I praise. Her head twitches slightly at the remark, and I take it as a gesture of it being well received.
Wasting no time, our naughty girl removes the handle from her mouth, sliding it between her lips until it is dripping with her spit.
And in one movement, eyes focused, her hand pushes the handle’s tip directly into my aching pussy.
Instinctively, my fingers beg to grip her hair, but my brain stops me.
This woman needs to wash before I entangle anything in her.
Reaching for my hair instead, my fingers squeeze my silk scarf, gripping the pink rollers as I ride the brush handle. The sound of my panting fills the small space, our movements synchronize, and more cat-twitching mouth movements follow from her. I translate it as her being pleased.
Madame’s movements speed up. The handle is rubbing all the right places, and the angle is absolutely perfect.
Then, out of nowhere, the lights flicker, faint yelps of terror following.
The house is speaking, but I can’t be bothered with being scared.
This feels too fucking good, and perhaps I am scared slightly because the more the lights dance, the better this feels.
“Yes, keep going, naughty girl. You bad little bitch on the ground worshipping my pussy. Keep. Going,” I command her, throwing all pleasantries out the door.
I am rewarded with more hissing and ticks as my toes flex inside my slippers.
Kicking one off, I need to feel the cool tile.
A chill rushes over me as the pads of my toes connect with the floor.
I debate tossing the other slipper off to fully immerse myself into the experience, but I worry my unique webbing could alarm her.
It’s best to ease this one into normal realities.
Both legs twitch as my stomach contracts. Tiny tingles move up my body. “Don’t stop now, naughty girl. Or I will punish your ass later. Work me through the wave. I need to ride it until the end.” I speak between gasping breaths.
The sweet release of my orgasm quakes and quivers my body.
The walls of my tight cunt grip the brush handle as the smooth varnish takes me into another world.
Stars dance like poetry in motion. My body has lifted off into another dimension.
And I join my new friend in making strange noises with my mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I pant, reaching the peak of this euphoric experience, and I worry these old knees won’t be able to hold me up much longer. And at the same time, I ache for this feeling to last for an eternity.
“I’m coming, dear,” is shouted at me next.
Without a second thought, I holler back, “Me too,” while my hips wiggle-wiggle and my pussy dribble-dribbles.
The sweetness of my release sadly subsides. Then the empty feeling inside my pulsating pussy follows. The handle is gone.
Opening my eyes, I glance down and my naughty girl is no more. Confusion riddles me. All to be found is a wet mark on my gown and the glistening cum I generously donated to the wooden brush handle. Catching me by surprise, the door opens, startling this old heart.
Panicked, I freeze. I’m not sure I can handle it anymore this evening.
If Madame has run off to tell her pals, I am absolutely doomed.
As my mind races, worried, it immediately washes away when my Ruthy’s face peeks around the corner of the door.
My head full of rollers rest against the wall in relief.
But her face is petrified and pale. “We need to get out of here.”
The rapid movement of flickering lights stops.
This is the sober awakening needed.