Buying the Virgin Box Set - Books One to Five by Simone Leigh

Author:Simone Leigh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: first time, anal sex, mfm, oral sex, master, alpha male, menage erotica, virgin erotica, mmfmm, auction erotica

The following evening, having slept most of the day, I am bathed, made up, dressed to the nines and feel like a million dollars.

My Master has been very specific about what I should wear: a black satin wrap-around skirt, held in place only with two buttons, a matching halter top, which ties at the neck and, cut low, unbuttons at the front, stockings, shoes with a heel, but not too high, chic but comfortable. My red silk panties tie at the sides. A heavy Cleopatra-style necklace. Hair up, eyes lined dark, lips deeply scarlet, expensive perfume. Looking at myself in the mirror, I feel completely fuckable.

Michael is carrying a briefcase and I wonder what is in it.

We take a taxi to a part of the city I do not know. Basically Medieval, modernity has over-run it and in the darkness of the evening, neon glares brilliantly at me, garish ad boards dazzle and the noise of traffic is deafening. Pulling in to the rear car park of an unfamiliar building, the noise abates and I wonder where we are going. From the front, this looked like just a parade of shops.

My Master sees my puzzlement. “It’s in the basement.” he explains. “A part of the old town which not many people know is still here. And now, Michael, please.”

Michael opens the briefcase, producing a red silk scarf.

What is that for?

The question answers itself as Michael blindfolds me. “Not too tight?” he asks.

“No, fine.” But I feel a bit unstable.

The two men each take me by an arm. “Just walk slowly.” says my Master. “Don’t worry. We won’t let you fall.”

They lead me, unseeing across the tarmac of the car park. There is the creak of a door opening. “Lift your feet a little.” says Michael’s voice. “There’s a threshold.”

Obediently, I raise my feet a little more, then am guided through a smell of damp; not unpleasant, but musty, as though of old stonework.

Down stairs, one step at a time, my footsteps and theirs, echoing. There is a murmur of voices ahead, several voices, but muffled; the smell of good cigars and something alcoholic. Brandy?

Again all reason, my panties are getting moist.

For a moment the arm supporting me to the left releases me, there is the sound of another heavy creaking door, and abruptly, the sound of voices grows much louder.

We stand, I think framed in the doorway, the three of us, Michael to one side of me, my Master to the other, me blindly between them.

After a moment, the hubbub of voices falls silent and then a deep earthy voice says. “Good evening James. Good evening Michael.” There is a footstep or two, and then my hand is taken, raised and kissed. “And good evening Charlotte. Thank you for coming. You look beautiful.”

The voice and the kiss are accompanied by the waft of expensive aftershave and a rich, deeply masculine scent. My panties are becoming really quite uncomfortably wet and there is flush rising from my breasts over my chest and neck to my face.

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